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“What’s the matter, Pet?’’ asked the Squire.— P age 22. 
Tam. a Tom.] 




TAMING A TOMBOY. 





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TAMING A TOMBOY. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE TWENTY-FIFTH EDITION OF 
EMILY RHODEN'S “DER TROTZKOPF,” AND 
ADAPTED FOR AMERICAN READERS. 


BY 


FELIX L. OSWALD. 





W. L. ALLISON 00., 


NEW YORK. 


Copyright, 1898, 


BY 

W. L. ALLISON CO. 


1st COPY. 

1QSC. 

otf'CE or 

f AUG 1 5 1898 J 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 

M-A'E. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


CHAPTEE I. 

‘‘Guess what happened in the stable!” cried a 
merry-eyed girl, bursting into a room where her 
father’s guests were looking at a photograph album 
“Try, pa, I give you three guesses!” 

“What’s the matter, Fan?” laughed her father; 
“have the roosters been fighting?” 

“Better than that,” said Fanny; “guess again.” 

Squire Malden was a justice of the country court, 
and as strict as a provost marshal in the court- 
house, but in his own house Miss Fanny had 
things all her own way. 

“Better tell me at once, pet,” said he, patting 
her curly head, ‘ ‘ did Joe fall down the ladder again ?” 

“No such luck,” chuckled the girl; “I thought 
you would miss it; well. I’ll tell you; it beats all 
that — Brownie’s got pups at last.” 

Everybody laughed, and even the old village par- 
son could not help smiling at the sprightliness of the 


6 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


little romp who had rushed in with one stocking 
down and her hair all full of straw. 

“Yes, and they are all chestnut-brown like the 
old one,” she continued; “and now come on, pa, Joe 
isn’t home, and I want you to help me get one of 
those seed-boxes down from the hayloft and make 
them a nice warm bed. ’ ’ 

Squire Malden was on the point of rising, when 
his wife put her hand on Fanny’s arm. “Come to 
my room, dear,” said she kindly, “I want to tell 
you something. ’ ’ 

Fanny bridled, but her stepmother’s eye pre- 
cluded resistance, and she went along pouting. 

“Well, what’s up?” she inquired when they were 
alone. 

“Nothing, dear,” said Mrs. Malden, “but I want 
you to hurry and go to your room and dress. I 
suppose you didn’t know we had company?” 

“Yes, I did,” said Fanny, “but I didn’t care.” 

“But they do, child ; have you no more sense than 
to rush in the way you did, all full of straw like a 
feedstore man’s stable boy? You are fifteen years 
now, and should know better than that. Oh — and 
just look at your shoes — all tattered and dusty and 
one of your stockings dangling ! What will young 
Scheffer say ? He will laugh at you. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


7 


“Well, let him, ’ ’ snapped Fanny ; “the idea ! As 
if I cared for his opinion, the stuck-up dude with 
his goggle-glasses ! Let him go and goggle a dress- 
maker’s doll.” 

“But you will set them all a- talking. Heavens! 
Look at your left sleeve ! Torn in two places I No, 
no, that won’t do; hurry up now and dress.” 

Fanny had turned to the window and looked down 
in the garden. “I believe one of those dogs down 
there on the lawn has got more brains than Fred 
Scheffer,” she chuckled; “he reminds me of that 
performing monkey we saw in Willdorf last year.” 

“Never mind now; did you hear what I told 
you?” asked her stepmother. 

“Oh, I ain’t going to dress for a lot of fools,” 
said Fanny; “this is our own house; they needn’t 
come here if I am not good enough for them; I’m 
not going to change my dress at this time of the 
day.” 

Mrs. Alden bit her lip. “Just as you please 
about that, ” said she after a moment’s reflection; 
“only in that case you have to go up to your room 
and stay there. Go at once now, ’ ’ said she, rising ; 
“you stay in your room and that’s where you will 
eat your supper. ’ ’ 

Fanny hesitated, then marched out and slammed 


8 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


the door as hard as she could. But up in her room 
she sat down on the bed and burst into tears. ‘‘Oh, 
my doggies, my poor little doggies,” she sobbed, 
“she just wanted to spoil my fun, that’s all. Oh, 
what in the world made pa marry again? We were 
so much better olf when we were alone ! Scolding and 
fault-finding from morning till night ! And now she 
wants to turn me into a fashion-ape, but I’ll make 
her find out she can’t do it.” 

Fourteen years of wild freedom had made Squire 
Malden’s daughter almost unmanageable. She went 
and came as she pleased, and studied her lessons 
only when she was tired of other pastimes, or the 
weather was too rough for a horse-race. After she 
once had mastered the alphabet she did make 
progress in some of her studies, but that was only 
because she had come across some interesting books, 
and was fond of reading about wars and battles and 
adventures in foreign countries. She had a French 
governess at the time when children learn to re- 
peat words like parrots, and could now read books 
in two languages, but writing was less amusing, 
and her compositions were still full of spelling 
blunders. Her last governess had left in a huff, and 
Miss Fanny had now private lessons at the parson- 
age — twice a week, and frolicked about her father’s 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


0 


big farm for the rest of the lime, chasing butterflies, 
climbing trees, angling for bass in Pine Creek, or 
helping the hands in the fields, as the spirit hap- 
pened to move her. But she never came home with- 
out some little present for her father, and had made 
him so fond of her that he could not find it in his 
heart to scold her. She was his only child, too, 
and her smile and her eyes reminded him of her lost 
mother. If he did try to read her the riot act she 
was around his neck in a moment and literally 
stifled his words with kisses. 

‘‘As long as he loves me what do I care who 
doesn’t?” seemed to be the meaning of her conduct 
for the last year and a half; and at the slightest 
reproof she flared up in a manner that made her 
stepmother glad to keep out of her way, unless she 
felt it her unavoidable duty to interfere. 

The visitors stayed for supper, and Squire Malden 
had repeatedly looked toward the door and an empty 
chair at the end of the table. “Where is Fanny, 
I wonder?” he asked at last. 

Mrs. Malden rang the bell. “Go and tell Fanny 
to come down to supper, Eosa. ’ ’ 

Fanny was still sitting on her bed. She had 
locked the door and Eosa had to knock loudly and 
repeatedly. 


10 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“The old lady wants you to come down right 
away,” she said; “supper’s ready.” 

“Oh, is it,” sneered Fanny; “well, tell her she 
can eat my share. I’m not going to come down this 
evening, that’s what she told me herself not more 
than an hour ago. ’ ’ 

“And I don’t blame you. Miss Fanny,” whis- 
pered Kosa; “the way she orders you around, just 
to show that she has something to say. ’ ’ 

Orders us around, Kosa probably meant. She, 
too, fretted under the new order of things and 
lamented the lost paradise of the free and easy in- 
terregnum, when the squire was often gone for days 
together and romping Fanny was mistress of the big 
house. 

Supper was still waiting when Kosa re-entered 
the room. 

“Miss Fanny says she doesn’t want no supper 
after what you told her, ma’am,” she reported, 
with several twinkles in her black Austrian eyes. 

Squire Malden looked at his wife. “Anything 
wrong?” he asked. 

“Fanny does not feel well, I think,” stammered 
Mrs. Malden; “perhaps it can do no harm if she 
misses a meal. ’ ’ 

“Go and see if Dr. Arnold is still in his garden, ” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


11 


said the squire, but before the messenger had left 
the room the order had to be countermanded. 
Fanny’s voice was heard in the yard and the trun- 
dling of her iron hoop, and every now and then a peal 
of merry laughter, when the dogs tried to join in 
the game and got trundled off their feet. 

The squire stepped to the window. “What’s the 
matter,” said he, puzzled, “she doesn’t seem to be 
sick?” 

“I’m sorry I have to explain the nature of her 
disorder,” said Mrs. Malden with a perceptible 
blush; “it’s not easy to cure, and in plain language 
is called waywardness, ’ ’ and then paused to miti- 
gate the form of an outline of her experience with 
the squire’s romping daughter. 

Baron Scheffer burst out laughing. “That’s 
nothing, ’ ’ said he, with the tact of a man of the 
world, trying to divert the episode of its moral im- 
portance; “girls will have their tantrums; that’s 
their way of sowing their wild oats, and a much 
cheaper way than their brothers. It has often sur- 
prised me how suddenly such products of nature 
blossom out into young ladies. She’ll be all right 
in a year or two. ’ ’ 

But on the way home he modified his comments, 
and his wife could hardly find words hard enough to 


12 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


express her horror of tomboys. ‘‘Talk about step- 
mothers being prejudiced, ” said she; “I should like 
to know what an angel from heaven could do in that 
poor woman’s place; the kinder she treats her the 
worse she gets, and if she tries a different plan she 
risks stirring up a hornets’ nest.” 

“Yes, you are right, mother,” said Fred, when 
he felt a demand for his casting vote. A sort of in- 
stinct seemed to tell him that he had no chance with 
girls of that sort. 

When the guests were gone the old parson stayed 
behind. He had baptized and confirmed Miss Tom- 
boy and took more than a neighbor’s interest in her 
welfare. But he hardly knew how to begin, and 
there was a pause of embarrassment while the Rev. 
Sanders walked slowly up and down the room, wait- 
ing in vain for somebody else to break the silence. 

“There’s no use mincing words, old friend,” 
said he at last, putting his hand on the squire’s 
shoulder; “it won’t do to let things go on this way ; 
we can’t manage that girl any longer; the plain 
truth is she has outgrown our resources of educa- 
tion. ’ ’ 

Squire Malden looked up with an expression of 
undisguised surprise. “Our resources?” he asked, 
“how do you mean?” 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


13 


‘‘I mean just this: we have to send Fanny to a 
boarding-school. Under the circumstances it’s the 
only remedy.” 

“A boarding-school!” cried the squire, as if his 
adviser had proposed commitment to the county jail. 
‘‘Why, what has she done?” 

The Rev. Sanders smiled. “I almost knew you 
would ask that question; you have a prejudice 
against college education, I know, but in this case 
it’s a lesser evil. Just ask yourself where we are 
drifting. That girl defies the three of us, and 
seems to glory in her independence. We had a 
plain proof of that this evening. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, is that what you mean ? I’ll give her a talk- 
ing, I promise you; it would be bad if we can’t 
make her mind her mother. But a boarding-school ! 
It would drive her crazy in a week. She’s the very 
kind of a» girl who would defy a whole faculty of 
pipeclay professors and then jump out of a third- 
story window. Scheffer is right ; children will be 
children, and I don’t see why boys should have a 
monopoly of wild oats. Time will mend all that. 
What do you say, Annie?” 

“I would have agreed with you a year ago,” said 
Mrs. Malden, “but after doing the very best in my 
power, and things going the way you see, I cannot 


14 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


help thinking Mr. Sanders is right. It’s really 
the only remedy. Why, do you know that I am 
unable to make her attend to her lessons for twenty 
minutes, even in winter? If the weather drives her 
indoors she may take up a book and let me start her 
writing or drawing, but if one of the dogs should 
happen to scratch at the door, up she jumps and 
down go her books ; she has seen a chance for a 
better pastime, and Brownie or Jack have to trot 
around the floor with her toy-wagon. ’ ’ 

‘‘That’s just like her,” laughed the squire; 
“she’s really nothing but an overgrown baby. A 
boarding-school could do her no good. She would 
just fool her time away, and we had better wait till 
she gets a little older. ’ ’ 

“Don’t you believe that, ’ ’ said the parson ; “she’s 
the very girl who has pluck enough to work her way 
to the head of her class, as you see her climb to the 
top of your walnut tree when the village boys start 
the competition. The spur of a competitive examina- 
tion would rouse all her energies, and give her 
motives for exertion that have been lacking for 
years. And besides, the ‘never too late to mend’ is 
a dangerous proverb in such cases. After her stub- 
born disposition has once been confirmed it might 
be too late. And I know the very place that would 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


15 


suit you. Did you ever hear of Miss Keymar’s Col- 
legiate Institute? It’s in the hills, just west of 
Willdorf, in a big park, with a wonderful view of 
the mountains. If you could see her pupils you 
wouldn’t believe that they are pining away with 
homesickness. Most of them feel at home the first 
week, and nearly all before the end of a month. 
It’s no barrack life, like in some schools. They 
room two and two, and can take their meals in their 
own rooms if they don’t feel well for any reason. 
Six hours of play a day is enough for any girl, and 
besides they give them extra holidays for excur- 
sions.” 

The parson paused, but Squire Malden made no 
reply. He sat brooding in his easy-chair and had 
let his pipe go out — a sure symptom of distress. 

‘‘Give me time,” said he at last; “don’t forget 
that she’s our only child. I know I will feel like 
tearing out a part of my soul, and ” 

“We do not want to hurrj" you, dear,” said Mrs. 
Malden kindly; “of course, we have to give you 
time to think it over, and perhaps you will agree 
with us for the very reason you mention as an ob- 
jection. We cannot afford to spoil our only child. ’ ’ 

She stopped, feeling that she was treading on 
dangerous ground. 


16 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“Perhaps you are right,” faltered the squire; 

‘ ‘ we have to do our duty, of course, and if I thought 
there was danger in delay I would let her start to- 
morrow. But a few days surely can make no great 
difference. Let me think it over, then, and perhaps 
I can see my way clearer in a week or two. ’ ’ 

But the decision came sooner. 

Early the next morning Squire Malden caught his 
daughter in the act of climbing on the hired man’s 
shoulder and over on the back of one of the horses 
that had been harnessed to the hay wagon and were 
about to start for a distant mountain meadow. 

“Good-morning, i)a, ” cried Miss Tomboy the 
moment she caught sight of him ; “don’t I wish you 
could come along ! We are going to Holberg hol- 
low and there will be lots of fun flinging rocks at 
weasels and chasing swallow-tail butterflies. And 
there are stag-beetles, too; I’ll fetch you one that I 
am sure you haven’t got in your collection yet.” 

Squire Malden’s eye rested on his daughter, and 
he could not help admitting that he had rarely seen 
a more ungirlish-looking child of her age. She was 
riding boy-fashion, with her feet — stockings down as 
usual, dangling left and right, and the skirts of her 
dress tucked up for a saddle-cushion. She wore the 
same jacket she had torn on the apple tree, and to 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


17 


avoid criticisms of her unkempt locks had twisted 
them into a top-knot, and gathered them under her 
cap. She looked as if she had jumped out of bed 
and dressed in about a minute and a half, on hear- 
ing the creak of the wagon- wheels. 

‘'Get down there, Fanny,” said her father with- 
out a direct reply to her prattle; “I want you to 
come upstairs and attend to your lessons. ’ ’ 

“Gee — git!” cried Miss Tomboy, turning her 
team toward the gate; “that’s all right, pa. I’ll be 
back after awhile. This is the last load, and we have 
to get it in early ; Mr. Mayer says there will be a 
thunder shower this afternoon. ’ ’ 

“Do you hear what I tell you, miss?” cried the 
squire, “why don’t you get off that horse instead of 
talking about the weather?” 

The little amazon burst out laughing. “La, 
pappy, ” she tittered, “I wish you knew how you 
remind me of old Miss Owlson, when she tried to 
get mad at me. But you needn’t be afraid that I’ll 
stay long; I haven’t got my breakfast yet, for one 
thing. "We’ll be back as quick as we can pitchfork 
this last load, if you are so particular; but you 
won’t get any stag-bugs, this trip,” and away went 
the wagon, leaving the squire to his own reflections. 
Before the team pulled out of sight Miss Tomboy 


18 


TAMING A TOMBON 


kissed her hand to him, but he thought he noticed 
something like a grin on the hired man’s face. 

‘^Sanders is right,” he muttered; “that girl has 
to pack her trunk for Willdorf.” 

He went up to the breakfast-room, where his wife 
had been waiting for him, but he did not seem to 
notice that the table had been set. Squire Malden 
stepped out on the balcony, and his eyes wandered 
to the mountains that towered cloud-like blue on the 
western horizon. 

“Did you have any trouble, Henry?” asked his 
wife, after watching him in silence for a few minutes. 

“Nothing particular,” said the squire; “only 
that parson has set me a-thinking, and since we are 
alone we might as well settle this matter. I’m 
going to write for a catalogue or prospectus of that 
college this morning, so we’ll know what they will 
expect Fanny to bring along. Do you think you 
could get her ready to start on the first of July?” 

“The first of next month, you mean? Oh, 
Henry! you are joking?” 

“No, no, I’m in earnest; could you straighten 
out her things by that time? If you can, I’m going 
to announce it to her to-day, and that will leave us 
half a months to get ready.” 

“Why, yes, I could do my part in less than two 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


19 


weeks,” said Mrs. Malden; ‘*but excuse me — did 
yon misunderstand us to be in such a burry? 
Wouldn’t the first of January do as well?” 

‘‘No, no,” said the squire, “don’t let us miss 
this chance — or it might not come back. ’ ’ 

“How do you mean?” 

The squire made no reply. 

“Did you mean about that college?” asked his 
wife. “Do you suppose it would be too late next 
year on account of Fanny’s age?” 

“Oh, no, they’d take her any time,” said the 
squire; “but I — the fact is, Annie, I’m afraid I 
might change my mind before next year. I happen 
to have my eyes open to-day, so let’s go ahead 
while we can. ’ ’ 

Squire Malden toyed with his breakfast, and was 
still drumming on his coffee-cup when Fanny burst 
into the room, rosy as the summer morning, but with 
her locks all disheveled and covered with hayseed. 
“Didn’t we make good time?” she asked gayly, 
shaking the dust off her dress; “Ibelieve we trotted 
the horses more than half the way back. But you 
never saw a prettier load of hay ; it had a full week 
to dry, and ” 

“Never mind the hay, now, Fanny,” said the 
squire, “I want to talk to you.” 


20 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


But, like Parson Sanders at the first mention of 
the project, the squire hardly knew how to begin. 
His daughter looked so happy and so unsuspecting 
that he could hardly find it in his heart to cloud 
that beaming face. 

‘‘Shall I help you to a sandwich, dear?” asked 
Mrs. Malden. 

“Never mind; just watch me if I cannot help my- 
self, ’ ’ laughed Fanny, cutting off a liberal slice of 
bread and proceeding to butter it an inch thick. 
Then she added several sections of sausage and 
tilted her chair back like a student in a club-house 
restaurant. “Oh, what about that talk, pappy,” 
she asked with her mouth full of bread; “you 
wanted to tell me something, didn’t you? Blaze 
away, then, before I skiij again. ’ ’ 

Squire Malden hesitated and actually came near 
repenting his purpose. There was time to retreat 
yet ; he could lecture her on her unladylike appear- 
ance or her recent misdeeds and let her off with a 
threat, but he felt that the treaty of peace would be 
only a truce, and manned himself to proceed. “I 
want you to help your mother get your things ready. 
Miss Hayseed, ’ ’ said he, with his eyes on the bal- 
cony window; “we ought to have sent you to a 
boarding-school two years ago, but now we cannot 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


21 


put it off any longer. I’m going to write to Will- 
dorf this morning, and tell them to look for you by 
the first of July. ’ ’ 

If Squire Malden had expected a paroxysm of 
protest, he was mistaken. Fanny turned pale as 
death and stole a look at her stepmother, but she 
did not say a single word. Oh, no, she wasn’t 
going to let the enemy see that the arrow had gone 
home. For, of course, she instantly guessed the 
hostile motive of the scheme and acquitted her father 
of all complicity in its concoction. 

“It’s for your own best, Fanny,” resumed the 
squire; “I suppose you can realize that yourself . ” 

“Eealize what? It being best for me to get out 
of this?” sneered the girl with her pallor suddenly 
yielding to a flaming red. “Oh, yes, I can see that 
now, if I couldn’t see it before. You remember 
how often you told me that good health was more 
important than Latin grammars, and now I’m going 
to be bundled off to a place where they pen you up 
all day in a stuff}" room and feed you on what they 
can buy the cheapest — it’s all right, though; I do 
wish July had come so you could get rid of me. ’ ’ 

“What are you talking about, Fanny ? Don’t you 
know we would ” 


“Oh, I know all about it,” snapped the girl, 


22 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


pushing back her plate; “but never mind I’ll find a 
place somewhere in the world where I am not in 
people’s way.” 

She staggered out on the balcony and dropped 
into a chair, choking down her sobs and fixing her 
moist eyes on the sky where a fiock of blackbirds 
were winging their way toward the distant mountains 

“What’s the matter, pet?” asked the squire, who 
had followed his daughter with a vague misgiving. 
“Haven’t you a wrong idea about a boarding- 
house?” 

Fanny did not seem to notice her father’s pres- 
ence, and her eyes still dwelt on that cloud of winged 
wanderers. “I do wish I could fiy,” said she at 
last; “I’d go where my mother is.” 

Mrs. Malden overheard those words and they 
pierced her heart like a knife. She, too, sank into 
a chair now, and buried her face in her hands, and 
when she finally lifted her eyes. Squire Malden was 
gone. Had he stolen out of the room to hide his 
emotions ? 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 





all liis propositions. Fanny was to arrive early in 
July and have a room of her own, unless she pre- 
ferred the usual plan of playing at housekeeping 
with a roommate. 

“And that’s what you had better do, Fan,” said 
the squire, who had petted his daughter these last 
few days in a manner which she had misconstrued 
as an attempt to make amends for a conscious 
wrong. “You see it’s like this,” said he, “if you 
don’t like the partner they give you it will cost you 
only a word to get rid of her ; but if you begin by 
rooming alone they will put you down as an 
oddity. ’ ’ 

“All right,” said Fanny, “that will be the best 
way, and if I do not like the girl they give me, I’ll 
run her out and tell her it’s all for her own good. 
Then I shall have the room all to myself, and it won’t 
matter much what becomes of her.” 


u 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


All this in presence of her stepmother. 

“Yes,’* continued Fanny, “that’s a good scheme 
if people are in your way” — then suddenly rising 
and kissing her father’s face — “isn’t it, pappy, 
— then they are gone and away. You remember 
that song we found in that old magazine : 

“ ‘No room for Little Willie, 

In the world he had no part — ’ ” 

Mrs. Malden quietly picked up her embroidery 
work and left the room. 

“There,” said the squire, “see what you have 
done. Miss Yixen; I’d give you a lesson you 
wouldn’t forget if I didn’t think you must be half 
crazy. What’s the matter with you, anyhow? Are 
you trying to make yourself as disagreeable as pos- 
sible just because we are doing our best to bear with 
you?” 

Fanny’s arm stole around his neck again. 
“Never mind, pa,” said she, smoothing his hair, 
“I won’t bother you much longer. The house will 
be nice and quiet then, won’t it? You will soon 
forget me ; and you had better burn up my butter- 
flies, too, so there is nothing to remind you of the 
time when you and me used to play in Hollberg 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


2b 


glen. You will be all alone then, if you go up there 
again. ’ ’ 

‘‘Go down in the garden, child,” groaned the 
squire, “I can stand this no longer.” 

“Is she gone?” whispered Mrs. Malden, peeping 
in with an arch smile when Miss Spitfire had left 
the room. 

“What did she say when she had you around the 
neck, the last time?” 

“Oh, the only sensible thing she has said this 
day — that she will not worry us much longer. 
That’s really the only consolation; it’s just a week 
to the first now, and in the meantime we must do 
what we can that she doesn’t get another chance to 
insult y ou. ” 

But that opportunity soon recurred. 

“Help me fold up these dresses, dear, ” said Mrs. 
Malden, entering Fanny’s room with an armful of 
dry goods the next morning, “and see what I 
brought you : a box with twelve different colored 
pencils, and a diary, where you can write your 
thoughts and plans when you are alone; it’s just 
like talking to a friend. ’ ’ 

Fanny made no reply, but examined the diary with 
apparent approval. 


26 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“What’s all this?” she asked at last, picking up 
a couple of lace-bordered aprons. 

“That’s on the list they sent us,” explained Mrs. 
Malden; “they are kitchen-aprons; the pupils in 
Willdorf take their turn waiting at dinner every 
day, so they learn something about housekeeping. 

Fanny’s chance had come. “Oh, it’s a school 
for servant girls then, is it?” she laughed. “That’s 
nice ; then I can hire out and make my own living 
and sleep in a garret, so I’m in nobody’s way — oh, 
and what’s this?” picking up a little album at the 
bottom of the collection of miscellanies, “a keepsake 
from Fred Scheffer! Isn’t that pretty! If his 
mother should die maybe they will fling him out for 
his own good, too — he can hire out for an hostler 
then, and perhaps we can find jobs in the same 
hotel.” 

“I did not come here to listen to such talk,” said 
Mrs. Malden, rising with quiet dignity; “you can 
pack your own trunk and send me word when you 
are done. ’ ’ 

Fanny caught her father alone in the garden that 
afternoon and covered his hand with kisses. ‘ ‘ They 
want me to pack, pappy, dear,” she coaxed, “so I 
guess my time is near up ; will you be good to me 
and let me have a little bit of a trunk, besides the 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


27 


big one — just a little trunk-satchel, so I can pack 
up a few knickknacks of my own?” 

“Why, of course, pet,” said the squire, de- 
lighted at the unexpected rationality of her request ; 
“old Wenk is going to town this evening, and you 
shall have it to-morrow morning. But don’t put 
any sausage in, ’ ’ he added, when Miss Tomboy be- 
gan to dance in a circle; “they are not going to 
starve you in Willdorf, whatever they might do to 
you.” 

“They better hadn’t, or I’ll cook and eat one of 
their dudie-girls, ” laughed Miss Fanny, who had 
partly recovered her wild humor; “no, indeed, 
that’s the first thing I shall tell them when we get 
there; they can call me all the hard Greek and 
Latin names they please, but they must not call me 
too late for dinner. ’ ’ 

The hand trunk arrived that night, and early the 
next morning Miss Tomboy locked herself up in her 
room and began to pack. And such packing ! 
First the beloved romping dress with the torn 
sleeves, then her summer shoes, dust and all; an 
old mouth-organ with five wheezy keys, a new dog- 
collar with four yards of rope, a stuffed canary 
bird, and last, but not least, a white glass bottle 
with a pet tree-toad. The poor little captive hopped 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


28 

about in sore fright, but he had to go along. A 
piece of bread, well stamped and kneaded, served 
the purpose of a stopper, and, for greater security, 
Fanny tied an old newspaper around the bottle and 
a handkerchief around that. Before she packed it 
up she opened the stopper once more, and almost 
filled the bottle with bread-crumbs. 

‘‘There, now it’s his own fault if he starves,” 
she chuckled, and proceeded to squeeze in the glass 
prison somehow or other ; but she realized that the 
trunk was a little more than full. For nearly ten 
minutes she thought she could not get the lock to 
close, but she managed it at last and hid the little 
key in her pocketbook. 

On the eve of her departure Fanny made the 
rounds of all the farm buildings to bid her pets a 
long farewell. Ducks, geese, chickens, cows, all 
came in for a share of the basketful of tidbits she 
had brought along ; but her last interview with the 
hunting-dogs almost broke her heart. They were 
all her good friends, and when Brownie’s pups 
came waddling up to lick her hand she could hold 
out no longer and had to lean against a post to hide 
her tears. 

“Poor things, they act as if they know all about 
it, don’t they?” said old Joe, the stableman ; “they 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


29 


will miss you, Miss Fanny, and I don’t blame you 
for crying; the good old times are gone, we all 
know that now. You will be a big fine lady when 
you come back, and we don’t know if we shall see 
you again, but you may be sure that some of us will 
never forget you. ’ ’ 

‘‘Joe,” said Fanny, drying her eyes with her 
sleeve, “will you do me a favor and try and smuggle 
this little fellow along when we go to Willdorf to- 
morrow?” 

She had picked up the prettiest of the brown- 
eyed puppies, and was fondling it like a pet 
baby. 

“That I will,” said Joe; “if I just knew where 
you are going, I’d take him over to-night, so you 
would find him when you get there. He might start 
a- whining, you know, and we can’t tell who is 
going along. ’ ’ 

“That’s so,” said Fanny, after some reflection. 
“Well, have him ready, anyhow, and maybe I can 
carry him on my lap and keep him quiet. ’ ’ 

Fanny rose early the next morning, and after 
breakfast the squire went down to superintend 
the loading of the baggage, and then returned to 
the parlor where Mrs. Malden was waiting to bid her 
stepdaughter good-by. 


30 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


‘‘Have you seen Fanny?” asked the squire when 
he found his wife alone. 

“No, but she knew you were going to start at 
seven,” said Mrs. Malden, “and Kosa helped her 
put on her traveling dress more than an hour ago. ’ * 

“She’s down in the garden, hunting flowers, I 
think,” said Eosa demurely; “but she’s ready 
dressed, all right enough. ’ ’ 

“Perhaps she wants to pick you a sprig of forget- 
me-nots,” said the squire, “I saw her give one to 
old Sanders last night. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Malden made no reply. 

They waited some time for Miss Tomboy and her 
flowers. 

At last the squire looked at his watch. “It’s 
past seven now,” said he; “it must be some misun- 
derstanding; let’s go down in the garden and collar 
her.” 

“Are you looking for Miss Fanny?” asked the 
coachman; “she’s gone ahead, and asked for us to 
pull out and catch up with her at Herrick’s cabin; 
she wanted to tell little Charlie Herrick good-by — 
the little fellow that used to go Ashing with her on 
Pine Creek, you know.” 

“Tell her to come back this minute,” cried the 
squire, “and hurry — ” but his wife stopped him. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


31 


“You will oblige me to let her have her own way 
this last morning,” said she; “just hand her this 
bit of a package, and tell her I send her my love 
and a little keepsake. ’ ’ 

“There they are now,” said Joe when the old 
family coach lumbered up the rise at the west end 
of the village. 

Yes, there stood Fanny, whispering to a little 
ragamuffin who had clambered up on a stump to 
get his towhead on a level with her face. The 
squire saw her put something in the boy’s pocket, 
then she kissed his freckled face left and right, and 
danced down the road to meet the coach. 

“We couldn’t have struck better weather if we 
had waited a year, pa, ’ ’ said she ; “just look at those 
little white feather-clouds ; they mean sunshine all 
day ; I have noticed that’s if it’s going to rain there 
isn’t a cloud in sight at sunrise, but the sky looks 
slate-color instead of blue — ” and so on, with the 
evident intention to avert censure by her volubility. 

Squire Malden smiled and allowed her to continue 
her prattle till the coachman pulled up for a moment 
at the foot of the next hill. ‘ ‘ Oh, I nearly forgot, 
said he, reaching in his overcoat pocket; “here, 
your mamma sends you this for a keepsake.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, what beautiful pools in that creek, ’ ’ said 


32 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


Fanny who had seized the little package and 
crammed it into the lunch-basket at her feet. ‘ ^Look, 
pa, don’t you think there must be sun-perch in 
there? Just like the glen-pool on Pine Creek!” 

It seemed to be her cue to avoid the very mention 
of her stepmother’s name, and just then Joe came 
to her assistance. 

‘‘Here’s your pet. Miss Fanny,” said he, handing 
her a bundled-up puppy through the coach window. 
“I’ve put him in a little bag, but it’s a gauze bag, 
so he can get all the air he wants. ’ ’ 

“You will soon have luggage enough, if this 
keeps on,” laughed the squire; “but hold on, you 
aren’t going to take that thing along to college, are 
you?” 

“Oh, please, let me keep him,” begged Fanny. 
“I’ll see to it that he is in nobody’s way. It’s the 
quietest, cleanest little pet you ever saw. And 
then I won’t be all alone among strangers; you will 
let me keep one little friend, pa — oh, I know you 
will, ’ ’ kissing him violently again and again. 

There was no resisting such arguments, but the 
squire shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s against 
their rules,” he said; “they might have no room 
for boarders of that sort ; but of course we can try 
it and see what they will say. ’ ’ 



< < 


Here’s your roommate, Nell. 


’—Page 4 3 - 


Tam. a Tom.] 




TAMING A TOMBOY. 


:3 


Another volley of kisses, and more baby prattle, 
till finally the rocking of the coach and the warmth 
of the summer sun had their effect on the old 
man. 

Squire Malden leaned back in his corner and 
began to nod, and only then the daughter of Eve 
stole a furtive look at the little package. 

She squeezed it, and finally held it up and rattled 
it against her ear. ‘ ‘Money ? No, too big for that ; 
a framed photograph or a letter-weight, or some- 
thing of that sort — pshaw — ’ ’ tossing the package 
back in the basket and taking out a piece of cake to 
feed her pet pup. 

They reached Willdorf after sundown, and of 
course put up at the hotel that first night. Fanny’s 
weather prediction had been verified ; the next morn- 
ing, too, dawned bright and cool, and at nine o’clock 
Miss Tomboy stood before her father, ready 
dressed. Her gray mantilla and white straw hat 
set off her brown curls charmingly, but her eyes 
looked dim and swollen, and her father suspected 
that she had been crying all night. 

“What is it, pet?” he asked kindly ; “do you not 
feel well?” 

Fanny looked toward the window, then suddenly 
turned and fell in her father’s arms, crying as he 


34 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


had never seen her cry in her life. She hugged 
him as if she would never release him again. 

‘‘Don’t, now, don’t,” begged the squire; “you 
will get over this, darling, and you know we want 
you to come and see us next Christmas. We are 
going to write twice a week, your mamma and I, 
and tell you all the news, and you must do the same, 
whenever you have nothing else to do. ’ ’ 

He took out his handkerchief to dry the poor 
girl’s face, but still her tears welled up uncontroll- 
ably. Her little hand patted his shoulder as if she 
wanted to coax him to revoke his decision, and he 
felt that he would never have given his consent if he 
had foreseen all this. But it was too late now, and 
he gently disengaged the caressing arms and stroked 
back her loosened curls. “Come, be sensible, 
child; we have to go now; it can’t be helped, you 
know. ’ ’ 

“I don’t want her to write me any letters,” burst 
out Fanny, with sudden violence; “if she does I’ll 
burn them; you^an tell her that from me.” 

“Oh, hush, hush,” begged the old man; “you 
would be ashamed of yourself, pet, if you only 
knew how you wrong your mother. She loves you 
like a child of her own, and she asked me repeatedly 
if I thought you would answer her letters. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


35 


‘‘She can ask as repeatedly as she pleases,’* 
sobbed the tomboy, “but I’m not going to do it. 
Tell her she can save herself that trouble and — — ’ ’ 

“Keep still now, child; I declare we have to go; 
come, get your satchel and things. No, no,” he 
laughed, when Fanny picked up her lapdog, “we 
must leave that pup behind; I’ll have to see the 
principal first if it isn’t against their rules.’’ 

“No, it isn’t,’’ said the tomboy, hugging her 
puppy all the harder; “they can’t possibly be so 
mean as all that ! Mr. Sanders told me it was a 
large, roomy house, and it would be funny if they 
couldn’t find a corner for a little pet like this.” 

“I hope so, but we had better ask first, darling,’’ 
insisted the squire; “we can’t bring him there with- 
out their permission. ’ ’ 

“Then I’m not going to go either, ’’ snapped Miss 
Wayward, putting down her basket, and her father 
had to yield, for fear of provoking another deluge 
of tears. But he shook his head anc^ould not help 
wishing Brownie’s family event ha^come off a few 
weeks later. In all probability the ladies at the 
college would take Fanny for a stable-girl. 

In about a quarter of an hour father and tomboy 
reached the lodge-gate of a stately old brick house, 
three story, and surrounded by a park-like garden. 


36 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“Look, Fanny, wliafc a pretty building,*’ said 
tbe squire; “you will have no chance to get very 
homesick in a place like this. 

“Pretty!” sneered Fanny; “I don’t see where 
the prettiness of it comes in. It looks just like a 
big jail.” 

“You never saw a jail, child,” laughed the 
squire, “or you would not talk such nonsense; this 
seems to have been some nobleman’s mansion with 
a deer park, to judge from the size of the trees. ’ ’ 

“Yes, and a high fence all around, so the deer 
cannot get back to the woods, ” pouted Fanny ; “I’m 
going to be a prisoner here, I know that well 
enough. ’ ’ 

“Let’s go in, they must be waiting for us by this 
time, ’ ’ said the squire. 

They mounted a flight of broad stone steps, and 
Fanny gave a start when her father pressed the bell- 
button, and the bell rang out like an alarm-signal. 

A well-dressed girl opened the door, and the Mai- 
dens were ushered into the reception-room. The 
pupils were having their ten-o’clock recess, and 
three or four of them leaned over the banisters to 
have a peep at the newcomer. 

Fanny felt ill at ease. She heard something like 
a titter, and was glad when the door closed. They 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


37 


were alone yet, and after a look around tlie wains- 
coat walls and classic statues poor Fanny did begin 
to feel a misgiving about her dog. He was clearly 
out of place in this parlor, and she half-repented 
not having taken her father’s advice. And just 
then the unfortunate little four-footer was getting 
restless, and struggled to get down on the floor. 
She turned pale at the thought of the probable con- 
sequences when she looked at the splendid carpet 
and the velvet ottomans. 

And now the door opened, and Miss Key mar 
answered the squire’s bow with a graceful courtesy, 
then stepped in and turned her steel gray eyes on 
the new pupil. Fanny had started back and clutched 
her father’s arm. 

A bright smile obliterated that stare of scrutiny. 
“Be welcome, dear,” said the principal, taking 
Fanny’s hand. “I hope you will soon feel at home 
here. What did you bring us there?” noticing the 
imp; “did your little dog follow you all this 
way?” 

Fanny nudged her father. The decisive moment 
had come. 

“It is one of her pets. Miss Key mar, ” said the 
squire; “we could not persuade her to leave him 
behind, and she thought you might possibly be kind 


38 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


enougli to — to let her keep him and permit us to 
pay something extra for his board and lodging. 

Miss Keymar smiled. It was the first time 
boarders of that species had entered her institute. 
‘‘I am sorry, Mr. Malden, to have to refuse our 
little girl’s first request, but I hope she will be sensi- 
ble enough to see my difficulty. We have thirty- 
five pupils, besides all the day girls, and I leave it 
to you if it would do to let them keep pets. Just 
imagine the menagerie concert! But now I think 
of it, we might compromise the matter and send her 
little dog to my brother’s place, not more than a 
mile from here. He has children of his own that 
would be glad to take care of him, and Fanny could 
see him every week. ’ ’ 

Fanny turned red and her eyes filled with tears. 
‘‘Let’s all go back home, then,” she was going to 
say, but her father’s hand was on her arm, and her 
mutinous remark shrank to an indistinct mutter. 
Perhaps the calm dignity of the principal helped to 
prevent an open rebellion. Like a queen she 
looked, in spite of her modest gray dress, and 
Fanny did not venture to meet her eye just then. 

The squire burst out laughing. “You are right, 
madam, and it’s absurd we did not think of all 
that ourselves. I’m sure my girl will appreciate 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


39 


the kindness of your offer, if you think your rela- 
tives would find room for this little sinner. ’ ’ 

Fanny shook her head. “We are not going to 
give our dog away to strangers,” she gulped. 
“Let’s take him away, and you take him home 
again, pa.” 

The squire squirmed, but Miss Keymar proved 
equal to the occasion. “That will be the best 
plan,” said she kindly; “children sometimes can 
see further ahead in such matters ; it might make 
Fanny feel bad every time she has to take leave of 
her pet. Our servant girl can take him back to 
your hotel, if you wish. ’ ’ 

“No, I’m going to carry him back myself, ain’t 
I, pa?” said Fanny, hugging her treasure h: rder 
than ever. 

“My dear child,” said the principal, “it is near 
noon now, and I would like you to stay, so I can 
introduce you to your playmates. Your papa may 
have business of his own and he knows we are going 
to take good care of you, don’t you, Mr. Malden? 
Our experience has convinced us that it is much 
better to let a new pupil make herself at home with 
us at once, and not let her run to and fro and hang 
about the hotels.” 

“No, no,” cried Fanny, clinging to her father’s 


40 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


arm, *‘I’m not going to stay right away. I don’t 
want to leave my father till he is ready to start back 
home!” 

The squire felt uncomfortable and almost irri- 
tated at her violence, but once more Miss Key mar 
came to the rescue. 

“Just as you please, child,” said she quietly. 
“May I then ask you to take dinner with us, Mr. 
Malden?” 

Fanny turned an imploring look at her father, 
but he thought it best to accept the invitation. 
Miss Eeymar touched a bell and asked the servant 
to call Miss Gunther. 

“She’s our head teacher,” explained the princi- 
pal, “and besides has special charge of the girls’ 
rooms. Her parents live in Allenton, I think, not 
more than three miles from Fanny’s home.” 

“ Miss Gunther? Oh, to be sure, I’ve met her 
before,” said the squire; “her father used to be a 
real estate agent and sometimes called at my office 
on business. I saw his girl ride a lady’s pony 
when she was not more than ten years old. ’ ’ 

“Miss Gunther, Mr. Malden,” said the principal 
when the teacher stepped in, fair and bright, hold- 
ing out both her hands to the new pupil. Squire 
Malden rose and greeted his fair countrywoman 


T AMINO A TOMBOY. 


41 


with respectful cordiality, and she, too, sparkled 
with delight at meeting an old neighbor; and they 
at once proceeded to an exchange of county news. 
All this while Miss Gunther held on to the new 
comer’s hand. 

“Take her up to her room now, please,” said the 
principal, “she wants to get rid of her hat and have 
a chat with her roommate. ’ ’ 

“Come on, dear,” said Miss Gunther; “I want to 
show you where you are going to sleep. It’s a 
nice, bright room, and you won’t be alone; when I 
heard we were going to have a little neighbor of 
mine, I picked you out the very best girl in the 
house, Nellie Holden; she was born in Denmark, 
and talks like a foreigner yet, but you might hunt a 
year before you could find a kinder soul.” 

They had half-ascended a fiight of broad stairs, 
and Fanny wondered if the building had not been 
originally used for a convent. The corridors were 
arched and all the hall windows gleamed with 
stained glass. 

“You can tell Mr. Hartman if that dog troubles 
you, ’ * the principal called up from the reception- 
room; “tell him to put him in the stable for a little 
while, or in the servants’ room.” 

“Never mind,” whispered Miss Gunther, when 


42 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Fanny gave a groan of dismay; ‘‘he won’t bother 
you or me, will he?” tickling the pup’s neck. 
“Are you so very fond of him?” 

“He’s the best little pet you ever saw,” pouted 
Fanny, “and they won’t let me keep him.” 

“Don’t fret, dear; you’ll find better playmates 
before the end of this week. You will be surprised 
how soon they’ll make you forget that little yowler. 
We have girls of all ages, and I’m sure some of 
them will just suit you. Have you any sisters of 
your own?” 

“No, nor a brother, either,” said Fanny; “I’m 
all alone. Miss Gunther. ’ ’ 

“There! Didn’t I tell you? That’s the reason 
you brought such playmates along. But you could 
have saved yourself that trouble. ” 

They had reached the head of the stairs and turned 
to the right, into a spacious corridor with rooms 
left and right, as in a hotel. 

“Here we are,” said Miss Gunther, opening one 
of the doors and ushering Fanny into a large room, 
overlooking the tree garden. One of the windows 
was open, and a big apple tree mellowed the sun- 
light with its pale-green foliage. 

It was a bright room, but plainly furnished ; two 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


43 


beds, two presses, a large waslistand, a writing 
table, and three or four chairs. 

“We have no carpet in here yet,” said Miss 
Gunther half-apologetically ; “but you’ll have one 
after awhile, and some pictures, too. ’ ’ 

“Oh, that’s all right,” laughed the tomboy; “I 
do hate rooms where you can’t stir for fear of spoil- 
ing something or breaking some crazy knick- 
knacks. ’ ’ 

Half-hidden by the head of the bed a girl of six- 
teen or seventeen years had been reading at the cor- 
ner window, but she now rose and advanced with a 
graceful courtesy. 

“Here’s your roommate, Nell,” said Miss Gun- 
ther; “I’m sure you will like one another; and you 
can’t afford to quarrel; this is the best room in the 
house. ’ ’ 

“Oh, sure, I’m going to love him quite much, ” 
said the flaxen-haired girl, putting down her book 
and kissing Fanny’s hand. “You rely on me love 
with all my might. Miss Gunder. ’ ’ 

Fanny smiled and thought the girl’s conduct a 
little strange. She ought to have kissed her cheek 
or just shaken hands, but perhaps she was a poor 
girl, or that might be the Danish way of greeting a 
friend. At all events Fanny could not help liking 


44 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


her gentle eyes and the childlike artlessness of her 
funny expressions. 

‘‘And little dog? It’s going to live here, too?” 
asked Nellie. 

“No, he just came to see us and say good-by,” 
said Miss Gunther. 

‘ ‘ What the pity ! Such sweetest animal ! ’ ’ 
patting the pup’s head. 

Fanny began to feel more at home. She was sure 
she could never quarrel with that Danish girl, and a 
sort of dread darted over her mind that they might 
get too fond of one another and something would hap- 
pen to part them. She had learned to mistrust 
the tricks of fate. 

“We’ll be back directly,” said Miss Gunther. 
“ Come this way, pet; I’m going to show you our 
music hall, and the big assembly-room. In which 
class do you think they will put you?” she asked, 
as they turned into another corridor. 

Fanny made no reply, but stared about, left and 
right, with the wild, anxious eyes of a deer dragged 
into a cattle-pen or outlandish menagerie. It was 
certainly a fine building, and much larger than she 
had thought ; but not homelike at all ; more like a 
nunnery, or papa’s courthouse with no end of doors 
and offices. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


45 


“Do you think they’ll put you in the first class?” 
resumed Miss Gunther, who really seemed to take a 
personal interest in her old neighbor’s daughter. 
“You look tall enough for a girl of eighteen years, 
and you can soon help me teach my class if you 
keep growing. Did you bring any of your copy- 
books along? In languages you will perhaps beat 
us all ; your papa wrote you had an English gover- 
ness and two French ones. ’ ’ 

A bell rang through the house, probably the first 
dinner-bell, and Fanny secretly rejoiced at the 
interruption. She somehow felt that this young 
lady was trying to be proud of her, and might be 
shocked at the shortcomings of her attainments. 

“I had so many different teachers I hardly know 
where they will put me here,” said she at last; 
“and I know I make blunders in writing French; 
but I could talk it like a parrot before I was eight 
years old.” 

“Well, never mind,” said Miss Gunther; “we 
mustn’t worry you too much the first day; there 
will be time enough to settle all that to-morrow. But 
when the teachers do meet I want you to do your 
very best,” she whispered, “my little Allenton girl 
mustn’t let any one get ahead of her if I can help 
it. But let’s go down now; dinner is ready.” 


46 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


They found Miss Eeymar in the dining-room tell- 
ing the squire about their home rules and customs. 
Newcomers always got the seat next to the principal 
at dinner, and every week two of the pupils were 
detailed to assist the waiter and sometimes the 
cook, to give them an insight into the mysteries of 
housekeeping. They acted the part of supervisors, 
too, and had to see to it that the dishes and things 
were properly cleaned and nothing missing. One 
or the other of the boarders had to say grace every 
day; but those who were too modest were never 
urged to do that till they had been a year or two in 
the elocution class. 

‘ ‘ This is the most sensible institute I ever saw or 
ever heard of, ” said the squire accept my compli- 
ments, Miss Keymar, you have certainly mastered 
the art of making your boarders feel at home. I’ve 
kept my eyes open and haven’t seen one sullen face 
thus far. 

Miss Eeymar was pleased with her visitor. 
“I’m glad you came along, Mr. Malden, said she, 
handing the squire a copy of her “Eules and Eegu- 
lations;” “if you look at that you will see that we 
are trying to make our place something more than a 
lodging-house for girl students. Some of our 
girls have got so used to us that they ask to stay 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


47 


over at vacations, and we never refuse them that 
request. A few of the foreigners have to remain 
anyhow, and we arrange picnics and little mountain 
excursions to give them a chance to enjoy them- 
selves. ’ ’ 

Dinner consisted of three courses, with several 
dishes that would have done credit to the chef of a 
first-class hotel ; but Mr. Malden noticed the absence 
of wine and coffee; there were no strong-spiced 
viands either; the menu seemed to have been 
selected on the plan of a modern health-resort. 
Fanny only noticed the dress of the girls that were 
helping the waiter that day. They were tripping 
about with boards holding a dozen plates, and wore 
those obnoxious aprons that had excited her mis- 
givings in Allen ton. She had teased her father into 
permission to carry her darling puppy, and when 
they rose to go the little Danish girl darted upstairs 
and swiftly returned with Fanny’s hat and gloves. 

‘‘That’s Miss Holden; she’s going to be my room- 
mate, ” whispered Fanny. The squire, too, liked 
that girl at first sight. 

“Much obliged. Miss Holden,” said he, when 
Nellie had followed them to the door; “please try 
to get along with my little tomboy. 

‘ ‘ Oh, I get him soon, ’ ’ smiled Nellie ; then touch- 


48 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


ing Fanny’s arm, ‘‘don’t stay long, Fan, I watch 
for you from window. ’ ’ 

“What a good girl!’’ said the squire when they 
stepped out of the lodge gate; “she is a foreigner, 
isn’t she?’’ 

“Yes, Danish or Swedish, I think,’’ said Fanny; 
“but don’t you like the way she talks? She re- 
minds me of that little Savoyard orphan boy that 
stayed at our house one night. ’ ’ 

“I’m glad you are coming to your senses, pet,** 
said the squire, greatly pleased at the abatement of 
his tomboy’s tantrums. “I really think Mr. San- 
ders could not have recommended us a better place ; 
I like their arrangements better than anything of 
the kind I ever saw. ’ ’ 

But he had exulted too soon. “ I don’t then,’* 
pouted Fanny; “the house looks like a convent, 
and I just hate the looks of that principal — mean 
old thing; wouldn’t let me keep my poor little 
giving her pup a sly kiss. “I’m fond of 
that Danish girl, that’ s all. ’ ’ 

“Don’t you like Miss Gunther?” asked the 
squire, — “that head teacher, or vice-principal, 
I mean?” 

“Oh, yes, I forgot,” said Fanny naively; “ yes, 
she’s just lovely. Say, pa, you must call on her 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


49 


folks when you get back, and tell them you saw her — 
that’s what she asked me when she combed my hair 
for dinner. Her father is dead, she told me, poor 
thing. I wish they were all like her, but ’ ’ 

‘‘Now, pet, be sensible,” expostulated her father ; 
“we haven’t been there more than three hours, and 
how can you tell about the rest of the teachers? If 
you expect me to write every week and call you my 
own dear girl, I want you to, tell me the truth be- 
fore I go now, and say if you don’t just think it 
possible you might like that place, after all?” 

He turned to watch her face, but she avoided his 
eye. 

“Well, yes — perhaps,” she muttered at last. 

“That’s right, and now let me have your puppy, ” 
stopping at a fruit-shop; “I want you to carryback 
a basket of oranges and pears for your little room- 
mate and teachers. Won’t that be a good plan?” 

“Yes, put in a little candy, too — that’s what girls 
like; but — Miss Keymar isn’t going to get one bit 
of this,” with a decided remnant of hostility. 

“Now, then, do you think you can find your way 
back alone?” 

Fanny made no reply, but put down her basket 
and pressed her sleeve to her eyes. “I am not 
going yet, pa,” she sobbed; “I can carry this has- 


50 


T AMINO A TOMBOY. 


ket and the puppy too, but jdease, please, let me go 
back with you as far as the hotel. 

‘‘What for, pet?” 

“Because — ” with another sob. 

That was a girl’s reason. Did it mean that she 
had not yet given up the hope of changing her 
father’s mind? 

“Why, darling, you might lose your way; better 
be reasonable now, and go back while we are on the 
same street. ’ ’ 

The reply came in the form of a crying fit. 

“Well, come along, then,” said the squire, but 
the floodgate of tears could not be stopped at once, 
and Fanny marched along, crying on the public 
street like a mischievous youngster that is going to 
be arraigned for his misdeeds. 

And when they did reach the hotel matters showed 
no prospect of mending. “I’m going to run away in 
spite of them, if they don’t treat me right,” sobbed 
Fanny when the hostler announced the coach ready ; 
“they can’t keep me like a slave. I’ll tell them that 
much,” clinging to a big easy-c'hair, as the only 
soft-hearted friend in sight, till the squire had almost 
to carry her out in the street. 

“I’m going to call a hack,” said he, “so you 
won’t lose your way.” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


51 


“Oh, I can walk,” said the tomboy defiantly, 
when she saw that the last chance was gone; “I’m 
not in such an awful hurry to get back there. ’ ’ 
“But it’s nearly a mile!” 

“Is she going to the college?” asked an old lady 
who had made a purchase at a neighboring shop ; 
“I live within a square of Miss Eeymar’s; 3'ou can 
come with me, child; I’ll take you where you are in 
sight of their building. ’ ’ 

“All right, come on, then,” said Fanny, choking 
down her tears ; and actually stalked away without 
turning her head or kissing her father a last fare- 
well. 


52 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


CHAPTEE lY. 

When Fanny reached the lodge-gate of the college 
she stopped, and looked up and down the garden 
roads ; but the only human being in sight was an 
old gardener with a wheelbarrow full of sods. 
He paid no attention to her, and Fanny slowly ap- 
proached the veranda, casting an anxious glance at 
the windows above the old apple tree. ‘‘Why 
doesn’t that Danish girl keep her word?” she mut- 
tered to herself; “I hate to ring that bell, but I sup- 
pose I’ll have to do it.” 

She had already one foot on the steps when she 
felt somebody touch her arm. Nellie Holden had 
kept her word, and seemed to have slipped around 
the house from some other door. 

“Come on your tiptoes,” she whispered; “ I 
show you way for our room where no one stop her. ’ ’ 

“What a good girl,” thought Fanny, and fol- 
lowed her friend to a little conservatory with an 
inner door close to the foot of a flight of back stairs. 

“Now, here, ’’tittered Nellie, when she had taken a 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


53 


peep into the main corridor and found the coast 
clear; you just come so right time; they all are 
in their rooms, sweeping floor. Here we got nice 
now. ’ ’ 

She opened the door of the apple-tree room and 
pulled her friend in, then swiftly and noiselessly 
closed the door. ‘‘Your father gone?” she in- 
quired, “and poor little dog?” 

“Yes, they arc on their way home,” said Fanny, 
patting her friend’s shoulder by way of expressing 
her gratitude; “how did you know I wanted to slip 
in and make no noise, you clever thing, you?” 

“Oh, me knows things, ” said Nellie, smiling; ‘*I 
look at person’s face and know what’s on one in- 
side. Now let’s put all your things so they belong. ’ ’ 

“All right,” said Fanny; “you show me how.” 

“Give me key then — keys for trunk and littlest 
trunk.” 

‘ ‘ Here they are — turn that trunk-key to the right, 
after you press it in. ’ ’ 

But Nellie had already got the trunk open. 

“Oh, such a pretty things, such pretty thing,” 
cried she again and again, as she pulled out the 
contents of the trunk. ‘ ‘ Look at big handkerchief 
with name on, and fringed apron — isn’t that good? 
who put yours name on all things ? Can you stitch ? ’ * 


54 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“My motlier, I suppose,” said Fanny, yawning. 
“I don’t like that apron at all.” 

“You will need him,” said Nellie, “if you like 
or no ; but your mother is quite good. ’ ’ 

“No, she isn’t,” muttered Fanny. 

Nellie stared. “I would be glad, I know,” said 
she, “if I have mother to make me pretty things.” 

“Is your mother dead?” 

“Ah me, yes, long, long dead,” said the girl; 
“she die when I was baby like this — ” holding her 
hand about two feet above the floor. And my 
father, he die, too; I’m all alone now.” 

“Poor Nellie, poor Nellie;” taking the orphan’s 
hand; “but sisters — have you no sisters or 
brothers?” 

“Not one at all,” said Nellie; “nothing but my 
old uncle, who pay my board here till they are done 
with teaching me all, and then, when they are done 
I have to go and be a governess. ’ ’ 

“A governess!” cried Fanny, horrified; “why! 
you are not much older than I am ; I thought only 
old maids could get a place of that sort. ’ ’ 

“Oh, that comes because the young ones they 
marry,” laughed Nellie; “but it’s other thing with 
me; I’m so poor; no one like poor girl.” 

“Then let me be your friend,” said Fanny, 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


55 


greatly touched. ‘‘I have no brother and sister 
either, and — not much of a mother. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ One little mother is better as no at all, ’ ’ said 
Nellie; ‘‘but you can have me for friend, so long 
you want; I’m glad you came here.” 

She put her arms around Fanny’s neck and drew 
her down on her bed. “You be good, won’t you?” 
she whispered, “not get mad to me and not hit me 
some more, will you?” 

“Hit you?” said Fanny, “what do you mean? 
Do you suppose I would do such a thing?” 

“The last one did,” said Nellie, “the big girl 
that went away last week; I was scared of her, 
when she get mad. ’ ’ 

“Was she much bigger than you?” 

Nellie nodded her head. ‘ ‘She was as stout as one 
mule. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Poor girl ! ’ ’ cried Fanny, ‘ ‘ no wonder you were 
glad she left; I don’t see how she ever could get up 
a quarrel with a sweetheart like you ! Just look how 
nice you unpacked that trunk and put everything in 
order. ’ ’ 

“Now little trunk,” said Nellie; “give me key.” 

“Never mind; I’ll do that myself, ’’said Fanny, 
remembering the way she had crammed in her 
knickknacks. 


56 


TAMINa A TOMBOY. 


‘‘No, you don’t know,” said Nellie, twisting the 
valise out of her hands ; “let me try — wait, I get 
him open.” 

“Now you let that alone,” flared up Miss Tom- 
boy; “I told you once, and that’s enough!” 

“Oh, my!” cried Nellie, with comically feigned 
fright, “you promise me one minute ago and now 
you get mad to me already ! Such a big eyes!” 

Fanny burst out laughing. “You are right, ’ ’ she 
said; “I came near breaking my word — but nobody 
can quarrel with you long, anyhow. Yes, you 
shall see my things — that is, if you promise not to 
tell.” 

Nellie put her finger across her lips. “Not one 
soul,” she whispered. “Oh, is that where you 
keep key?” 

But just then the bell rang for supper. 

“Oh, what strong pity! Now we have to wait 
till after we go in bed!” 

“Won’t that be a worse time than now?” asked 
Fanny. 

Again Nellie put her finger to her lips. “Him 
is my secret ; hush you now and come to supper. ’ ’ 

Fanny was ushered to the seat next to the princi- 
pal, and her other neighbor was Orla Sassuwitch, 
a biggish Kussian girl with a pug nose and short- 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


57 


cut hair, but a pair of fine oriental eyes. She was 
seventeen years, but looked older, and could talk 
several languages as fluently as a dragoman. 

Fanny would have preferred to sit near her friend 
but poor Nell’s place was near the end of the table. 
Just now she was standing near a sideboard to help 
serve the tea and sandwiches. “Perhaps that’s how 
the poor thing pays part of her board, ’ ’ thought 
Fanny ; still it was a pretty sight to see the nimble 
little ladies skip to and fro with their snow-white 
aprons. Large platters with butter and ham sand- 
wiches were already standing in a row. 

“Help yourself, child, and pass it on to your 
neighbor, ’ ’ said the principal. 

Fannj' was hungry. At breakfast and dinner she 
had to fight down her tears, but now nature asserted 
her rights. She took four slices at once, consoli- 
dated them two and two and made short work of the 
whole supply. She then reached across the table, 
collared another installment, and leaned back in her 
chair to sip her tea at leisure. At home she had 
often carried her supper to the barn and eaten it in 
a rafter-swing where she could throw handfuls of 
crumbs to her pet chickens. 

Miss Eeymar had been talking to a teacher and 
never noticed Fanny’s conduct till she heard the 


68 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


furtive tittering of two little vixens across the table : 
Melanie and Peggie Swartz, twins from Frankfort- 
on-tlie-Main, who seemed to enjoy the newcomer’s 
performances like a free circus. 

Her frown made them desist for a moment, but 
their suppressed merriment now vented itself in 
sputters, and Melanie was seized wdth a choking fit. 

“Won’t you have another slice, Fanny?” asked 
the principal. 

Fanny nodded assent. She had only begun 
enjoying her supper, and proceeded to help herself 
more liberally than before. She had discovered a 
saucer with jelly behind the cream can and proved 
that sweetness can be added to a slice of sugar- 
cured ham. 

“That thing can eat like a bear,” whispered 
Melanie Swartz; “just watch her — there! — down 
goes another chunk. ’ ’ 

Peggie had a choking fit this time and had to 
snatch up her napkin to muffle the explosion. 

After supper the girls were turned loose in the 
tree garden. 

‘ ‘ Come on, Fanny, friend, ’ ’ said Nell, taking 
her roommate’s hand; “but — hold on, see how you 
forget about napkin! Where’s your ring?” 

“What do you mean?” asked Fanny; “don’t the 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


69 


servants attend to such things? There!” seizing 
her napkin and pulling it through the ring happy- 
go-lucky. 

‘‘You don’t know,” said Nellie quietly^ “watch 
me now — see ? Fold him up like this, and then ring. 
That’s the way to do.” 

“Heavens help me! Don’t you people go to a 
lot of trouble!” laughed the tomboy; “what have 
you got your servants for?” 

“Never mind now, come in garden,” said Nellie, 
and she lugged her friend along. “So many good 
trees ! ’ ’ 

It was really a fine garden, though not nearly so 
large as the Allenton park, where a stranger could 
lose his way in the wildering thickets. All the 
trees and half the bushes were trimmed here, and 
there were several fine arbors of copper beeches and 
honeysuckles. Instead of deer-trails they had 
broad gravel paths with rich grass on each side. 
Beyond the quickset hedge there was another gar- 
den, or orchard, revealing glimpses of a range of 
blue mountains and wooded foothills. 

Nellie showed her all the playground facilities, 
the swings, the horizontal bar, the little pond and 
fountain, the black glass globe that reflected objects 
like a looking-glass, but all awry, making a person’s 


60 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


face look like a flat potato, witli a shark mouth and 
goggle eyes. 

At last Nellie took her to an old linden tree with 
a ring-bench where you could lean back and rest as 
in an easy-chair, and have shade all the day long. 
“Isn’t that good, now,” said Nellie; “here we go 
in dinner recess and in evening when we want to 
make up our secrets. That old tree hears them all, 
but he never tell,” she laughed, pushing down 
Fanny in a reserved seat where somebody had nailed 
a leather cushion against the stem of the tree. 

Fanny began to feel at home, though not more 
than six hours ago she had seriously meditated a 
scheme to run away on some moonlight night and 
get back to Allenton by following the pike road. 

“Halloo, Blue Eyes!” the twins called across the 
lawn; “have you seen anything of the butterfly 
catcher? There is a regular swarm of night butter- 
flies around this jessamine bush.” 

“You find it in tool-house, I guess,” Nellie 
called back ; “I saw the gardener pick it up on the 
gravel road this morning. ’ ’ 

“That’s the Swartz girls,” explained Nellie; 
“the one same as sit across you on supper- table. ” 
“Yes, I know, ” said Fanny; “what was it they 
called you? Is that your nickname?” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


61 


‘‘Him’ 8 all I got,” chuckled Blue Eyes ; “some 
of them got three or four; they are so funny to 
look at. ’ ’ 

“Say, who’s that big girl that was next to me 
this evening?” inquired Fanny. 

“Her with the short hair and eyeglass? That’s 
Orla, ” said Nellie, “and then she got other name, 
but too long for anybodies to remember. Oh, but 
she’s smart! We’re all some little scared of her, 
she always says truth and right in your face.” 

“Well, isn’t that the right way?” 

“Yes, you think so if it tickle you,” said Nellie; 
“but you talk different when it hit across their 
noses. If I tell Orla she beat some teacher talking 
she likes me all right, but she would hit me if I 
tell she has been smoking. And that would be 
truth, too ; I have peeped in her keyhole and see 
all blue with smoke. ’ ’ 

“Look! there’s something moving in that willow 
tree, ’ ’ said Fanny, whose eyes had been wandering 
all over the garden ; “is there a bench under there, 
too?” 

Nellie stood up to scrutinize the phenomenon. 

“Oh, I know,” said she; “that’s Flora — Flora 
Hooppole — oh, but she make poetry ; come on, let’s 
see her and have some fun. 


62 


TAMING A TOMBOP. 


Fanny was right; it was another ring-bench, 
shaded by the boughs of a weeping willow. And 
there sat the poetess — a tall blonde, with a freckled 
face and a blue-covered copy-book. She was 
writing, and did not seem to have noticed the 
intruders. 

‘‘Let me introduce you to great poet,” said Blue 
Eyes; “she can write verse all with rhyming at the 
last end.” 

Fanny stopped, half-afraid to speak and interrupt 
the occupation of the youthful prodigy. It was the 
first time she had met a poetess face to face. 

“And she write novels, too,” continued Nellie; 
“you never see such trouble! They all drown or 
break their hearts and fall down dead. Say, Flora, 
you better stop to write; it’s getting dark and spoil 
your eyes.” 

“I do wish you would mind your own business,” 
snapped the poetess, closing her copy-book; “I 
was just going to finish a lovely stanza, and now 
you made me drop a rhyme. ’ ’ 

“Wait, I help find him,” said Blue Eyes, stoop- 
ing and sifting the dry leaves in search of lost 
valuables. 

“Oh, go away, and don’t make a fool of your- 
self, ’ ’ snarled Miss Flora, “you have no more poetry 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


63 


about you than a cow; you can’t even talk plain 
prose, yet. ’ ’ 

“That’s true,” laughed Blue Eyes. “Come on, 
Fanny, don’t make her some more mad, or she 
make verses on you. ’ ’ 

Two other girls passed the willow tree just then, 
and one of them seemed to have overheard Nellie’s 
remark and came near falling in the grass with 
laughing. 

‘ 'That’s Annie Yanboden, ’’said Blue Eyes ; “she’s 
got nickname, too ; we call her the Laughing Dove ; 
everything starts her laughing, and she can make 
no end and make you laugh, too. ’ ’ 

About nine o’clock the bell rang again, and one 
by one the girls went to the principal’s room to get 
their good-night kiss. Now and then one of them 
had to stay behind and be scolded; but they did 
not mind that much ; Miss Keymar had a way of 
talking like a mother to her pet child. 

“Take that chair, child; sit down a moment,” 
said the principal, taking Fanny’s hand; “I should 
like to have a talk with you. ’ ’ 

“How old are you, Fanny?” she asked when the 
last girl had left the room. 

“Fifteen — I’ll be sixteen next March.” 

“And you never learned better manners yet? My 


64 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


dear child, I wish you could have seen yourself at 
supper this evening, leaning back like a hired man 
after a threshing day, and shoving in sandwiches 
by the double handful. It made the girls titter all 
along the other side of the table. We are not so 
very strict here, but then a young lady should 
learn to behave herself a little bit anyhow ; all you 
have to do is to watch your schoolmates. Don’t 
take your teacup with both hands and lean on your 
elbows, and if you eat do it in a way that doesn’t 
remind your neighbors of a menagerie; don’t get 
your mouth so full that you would choke if you 
tried to talk. A child in the nursery might do such 
things, but then its mother calls it a piggy or a 
little greedy gobble. ’ ’ 

Fanny had turned as red as fire with shame and 
rage. “I didn’t know,” she muttered, reaching 
for her pocket; “but I can pay you back if I ate 
too much. ’ ’ 

What — did — you — say ? ’ ’ inquired Miss 
Keymar, rising and advancing upon the offender. 
Perhaps she had really not understood her words, 
but she could not help having noticed the mutinous 
manner of the reply. 

“I didn’t know, ” Fanny began again, but she 
got no further that time. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


65 


Miss Eeymar gave her plenty of time to proceed. 

“Well, never mind,” said she at last; “you can 
go now; good-night, child,” reaching for Fanny’s 
shoulder to draw her near enough for a kiss, but 
Miss Tomboy eluded her by stooping to pick up 
her hat and flounced out of the room. 

She darted up the stairs and entered her own 
room, breathless and speechless with excitement. 
Down went her hat in one corner, down went her 
tippet in another, and without as much as a word 
of explanation she flung herself on her bed to sob 
out her grief to her pillow. 

“Oh, the pity !” cried poor Nell, “what is? what 
happened?” 

“I’m not going to stay in this place,” burst out 
Fanny. ‘ ‘ To-morrow I go back where I came from 
and let my father know how they treat me here!” 

“Oh, my! what she do to you?” 

No reply. 

“What happened? All in so short time?” 

No answer. 

“Won’t you talk to me?” putting her hand on 
Fanny’s head. “Oh! how hot you are! what she 
do?” 

“She called me a pig and a greedy snout,” 
screamed Fanny, picking up a little book and dash- 


66 


TAMING A TOMBOT. 


ing it violently against the door. “Yes, and she told 
me I ate too much — mean old, crazy thing ; why 
don’t they have a policeman around to watch you 
and snatch it out of your mouth if you eat a penny’s 
worth too much?” 

“Oh, she never mean said Nellie, stroking 

her friend’s arm to smooth her ruffled feelings. 
“No, no, you not understood things yet; she mean 
very well, and maybe never scold you again. Be 
good now, and after Miss Gunther done look in we 
get up and open your littlest trunk. ’ ’ 

“No, you won’t,” sobbed Fanny; “I’m going to 
write to my father to come and take me back. ’ ’ 

“I won’t let you write. Come, be good now,” 
coaxed Blue Eyes; “if you go I’m all alone again, 
and no friend. ’ ’ 

“If I stay I know what I’ll do,” gulped Fanny, 
boiling up projects with fever-speed ; “I’ll never eat 
another meal in this house; when my father left 
I walked back here with a kind old lady that told 
me she had been in Allenton often, and asked me to 
come and see her where she lives ; there I can get 
something to eat, and I have money enough to buy 
me a loaf of bread from the baker. That’s what 
I’ll do, and let them keep their baby sandwiches, 
so they can’t throw it in my teeth I eat too much.” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


67 


‘‘You get over that, by the by,” said Nellie, 
noticing the gradual abatement of the storm-waves; 
“do you say prayers before you go in sleep?” 

No reply. 

“Good-night, then. Fan, friend,” said Nellie, 
bending over to kiss her tomboy’s flaming cheeks; 
“you get over that as soon as you go sleep.” 

But Fanny kept drenching her pillow with con- 
vulsive tears, and an hour after, when Miss Gunther 
made her rounds and softly opened the newcomer’s 
door she heard her sobbing still. 

“She’s homesick, poor child,” thought Miss 
Gunther. 

Fanny’s thoughts wandered back to Allenton, 
and the two lost opportunities for kissing her 
parents good-by. What would she have given 
now to retrieve that last mistake ! Could she expect 
to be taken back after such an exhibition of heart- 
lessness? She felt as if she had lost her old home 
without finding a new one, and again the burden of 
that old song echoed in her soul : 

“No room for Little Willie, 

In the world he had no part — ” 

and her tears streamed till at last she sobbed her- 
self to sleep. 


68 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


The dress-bell, as they called it, rang at six 
o’clock, and once more Fanny bitterly regretted the 
loss of her old home, where she could rise as early 
or as late as she pleased. In midsummer, when 
the song thrushes heralded the morning at three 
o’clock, she often got up four hours before break- 
fast and took long rambles through hills and 
woods, while the dew was yet on the grass ; and in 
winter she had more than once slept till after eight, 
and dressed herself just in time to meet her tutor 
in the blackboard-room. She missed breakfast on 
such days, but what about that? The cupboards 
were always open and she could make out a liberal 
lunch at recess. 

‘‘Get up, Fan,” said Nellie; “there’s coffee at 
half-past six.’’ 

“Oh, dear, and I’m so tired yet,’’ yawned Fanny. 

“Get up once; you’ll soon be wide awake,’’ 
urged Blue Eyes; “you mustn’t be late first 
morning. ’ ’ 

Nellie was already ready dressed and had put her 
bed and things in order, when Fanny at last sat up, 
rubbing her eyes in a drowsy way. 

“Oh, dear! Hurry! Only ten minutes now! 
Come, quick, let me help dress; have you comb?’’ 

Fanny pointed to the window. “There’s every- 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


69 


thing wrapped up in that paper ; please get me my 
comb and my looking-glass. ’ ’ 

“You need pocket,” said Blue Eyes; “but never 
mind now — quick, button your shoes, while I tie up 
hair ; now come — ’ ’ dragging her to the washstand, 
where she proceeded to sponge her tear-stained 
checks without more ado. 

“Your my big baby,” she laughed. “Don’t get 
mad now, just come quick, and all go good yet. ” 
The second bell did ring, just as Nellie fastened 
her friend’s apron. 

“Didn’t I tell?” she chuckled; “I saved you 
one scolding, now quick. ’ ’ 

She took her hand and danced her out in the hall, 
and downstairs in time to enter the breakfast-room 
with the first comers. The principal took break- 
fast in her own room, and Miss Gunther beckoned 
Nellie to her side. 

“You are my own girl now,” she whispered. 
“I’m glad you came in time.” 


70 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


CHAPTEK V. 

Eai^ny proved that she had profited by Miss Key- 
mar’s lesson, and nibbled her biscuit like a pet white 
mouse. If the principal had been present Miss 
Tomboy would very likely have declined to touch 
her breakfast at all; as it was, she just touched it 
enough to oblige Miss Gunther, but she overdid 
things and sipped her coffee like a boy drinking 
lemonade through a straw. Presently the twins 
started tittering again, but Fanny continued her 
performance, till Orla Sassuwitch touched her 
hand. “You’re treating us to a regular concert — 
don’t you,” said she, more than loud enough to 
answer the purpose of a neighborly attention. “Do 
you always do like that? If you think it’s pretty 
you are mistaken. ’ ’ 

Fanny at once put down her cup and rose to 
leave the room. 

“What made you talk to her in that way, Orla?” 
said Miss Gunther, hurrying to the door to recap- 
ture the deserter. She overtook her at the garden 
gate. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


n 


“Where are you going, dear?” she inquired; 
“what got in your head? That’s no way to jump 
up and run off without permission ! And my own 
girl, too,” she added, “my own little Allenton girl, 
playing me such a trick the first day ! Come back 
now and finish your breakfast. ’ ’ 

“I’m done eating,” growled the tomboy, “and 
I’m not going back to be insulted and laughed at. 
They’re mistaken if they suppose I came here to be 
bullied by every pug-snouted — — ” 

“Hush, now, hush,” said Miss Gunther, putting 
her arm around her spitfire’s head in time to pre- 
vent the completion of her remark; “you cannot be 
in your right senses, child, or you would not talk 
like that to me. In this world friends are too 
scarce to be spurned for a whim, and you know very 
well that I am your friend — or trying my best to 
be, under difficulties. 

Fanny looked helplessly this way and that, her 
face began to work, and presently she burst out cry- 
ing, and permitted her teacher to lead her back like 
a wayward child. 

“I know you didn’t mean all that,” said Miss 
Gunther kindly; “but after this, dear, you must 
make it a rule to think a little before you talk or do 
things. ’ ’ 


72 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Fanny felt like a criminal on tlie way to the pil- 
lory, and drew a sigh of relief when they found the 
breakfast-room deserted. The girls had returned to 
their rooms. 

“Come, it’s our turn now,” said the kind teacher, 
handing her captive a plate of warm buckwheat 
cakes; “we mustn’t miss that, anyhow. Oh, and I 
nearly forgot : Miss Eeymar wants to take a look at 
your copy-books, and this morning you are going to 
be examined. It’s just seven o’clock now; come 
down about eight, and you will find all the teachers 
in the lecture hall. ’ ’ 

“Are they — are they all going to examine me?” 
stammered Fanny. 

“Not now, but they will be present when Miss 
Eeymar asks you a few questions on every main 
subject. After awhile I’ll come to let you know in 
what class you are going to be, and to-morrow you 
will attend school for the first time. Don’t you for- 
get now what I told you yesterday; I don’t want 
you to go in the baby -class, and there will be no 
risk of that if you’ll keep your wits about you.” 

Fanny went to her room to hunt up her copy- 
books. They were a sorry set; half-finished and 
turned into scrap-picture galleries, some of them, 
and others so soaked with ink-blots that the writing 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


73 


could hardly be made out for two lines together. 
Even grease spots added variety to the view. Often 
and often Fanny had missed her breakfast by get- 
ting up too late, and then pulled out a piece of pork 
sausage while her blear-eyed governess was standing 
at the window cleaning her spectacles. Fanny’s 
sins had come home to roost now, and on one page 
of her French lesson-book there was a grease splotch 
as large as a fig-leaf, wdth a sprinkling of little ones, 
like a brood hen with a lot of chickens. 

That would never do, and after a furtive peep at 
the door, Fanny tore out those poultry -yard pictures 
and stuffed the leaves behind her washstand. 

There came steps along the hall, and in danced 
Blue Eyes to stroke her friend’s face with a sprig of 
jessamine. 

“Is that where you hides?” she laughed, “Hook 
for you in garden and thought you ran away back 
to Allenton. What are you doing?” 

“I’m trying to straighten out these crazy old 
copy-books,” said Fanny frankly; “I had no idea 
they would want to see them. 

“Let me have, I help,” said Nellie, turning the 
assortment over and over; then went to her drawer 
and took out a roll of sky-blue wrapping paper and 
a pair of scissors. 


74 


TAMINO A TOMBOY. 


“What are you doing?” inquired Miss Tomboy. 

“Dress your books like I dress you this morn- 
ing,” laughed Nellie, “they look like they got mix 
with butter sandwich. ’ ’ 

“Never mind; they’re good enough the way they 
are,” said Fanny; “if they don’t like them they 
needn’t look at them. No, you don’t, ” she snapped 
when Nellie tried to fit her arithmetic with a new 
overcoat; “leave that alone, now.” 

“Get mad again? Now you sit on bed, or I call 
Orla to hold you and makes you behave,” laughed 
Blue Eyes; “you’re my bad boy and not knows 
things at all. There now! doesn’t that look more 
better? Sit still now, bad boy, you.” 

Fanny had to submit. It was impossible to pick 
a quarrel with that girl; and Miss Tomboy felt 
ashamed of herself for having tried it again. “I 
don’t see how you can keep your temper like that. 
Blue Eyes, ” said she naively. 

“Oh, you gets sensible, too,” laughed Nellie; 
“no ones can be crazy all the times.” 

At eight o’clock Fanny went down to the lecture 
hall, and found the board of examiners in full ses- 
sion. There were five of them. Miss Eeymar 
presiding. 

“Come in, child,” said the principal kindly; 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


75 


‘‘here we are, and I see you remembered the right 
time. Sit down here, and let us see your copy- 
books, to begin with. What’s this? German 
compositions?” 

“Y — es, I suppose so,” said Fanny doubtfully; 
“my governess used to call it the essay -book. ” 
“That’s just as good, and shorter,” laughed Pro- 
fessor Althoff, the senior of the faculty, “and — ” 
after a rapid perusal of the text — “it’s really not 
a misnomer, it seems ; you are quite an essayist — 
if you did write it all yourself?” — with a gleam of 
suspicion. 

“Oh, yes, every word of it,” said the tomboy 
authoress with gratified pride ; “but that’s nothing ; 
I could beat that hollow. ’ ’ 

Miss Key mar frowned. “What an expression, 
child ! Do better than that, you meant ; no matter 
how clever you are there is no excuse for slang. ’ ’ 
“Nor for such spelling. Miss Genius, ’ ’ said Pro- 
fessor Althoff; “just look here, will you — ‘sleapy;’ 
you must have been half-asleep yourself when you 
wrote that; and here — steeling for stealing; you 
wanted to make sure, I suppose, that nobody would 
steal those essays and pass them off for his own.” 

Fanny burst out laughing. She could stand that 
sort of banter all day long, and ask for more. She 


76 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


liked that Herr Altkoff, so quickwitted and sprightly 
and so unlike her solemn old governess. 

was just putting on steam to get done, I sup- 
pose, ” said she gayly; I could wrestle all those 
words with one hand tied behind my back. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, Fanny, Fanny, where have you been?” 
protested Miss Keymar; “did you go out hay-mak- 
ing with your father’s hired folks?” 

“Lots of times,” said Miss Tomboy with admir- 
able frankness. Professor Althoff was leaning back 
in his chair and studying the newcomer like some 
rare zoological specimen. 

“Have you ever tried to talk the way you write. 
Miss Malden?” he inquired, with another glance at 
the composition book. 

“The reason I ask,” said he, “is that some of 
your compositions are really clever; so you seem to 
know the difference between proper and improper 
language. ’ ’ 

“Well, I could talk bke that, I suppose, ” said 
Fanny; “but then — you know ” 

“Know I don’t.” 

Fanny tittered. “I mean folks would ” 

“Would what?” 

“Well, you know they would take you for a fool 
or a mollycoddle. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


77 


A— what?” 

“A hypocrite,” said Fanny after some reflection. 

‘ ‘ I thought so, ’ ’ said the professor. ‘ ‘ According to 
that you imagined that only hypocrites mince their 
words and that whole-<souled people spout slang left 
and right?” 

'‘No, but they ^re not so awful particular,” 
laughed Fanny. 

“Just a little particular anyhow, let us say?” 

“Yes — that would be all right.” 

“Good. We will agree after awhile, I can see 
that,” said the professor. “Because I hate hypo- 
crites as much as you do, and affectations in con- 
versation make me sick. Yes, we shall agree alto- 
gether, I know, after you once find out that there is 
something between slang and stilted language. ’ ’ 

“How are you getting along in French?” asked 
Miss Eeymar. 

“I can speak it, I believe,” said Fanny, begin- 
ning to mistrust the competence of her Allenton gov- 
erness, who had often praised her excellent spelling. 

A weazen-faced little foreigner rose from his seat 
by way of asserting his casting vote on this special 
question. “Mademoiselle Gunther, me dit que vous 
le parlez comme une Frangaise de naissance?” he 
inquired. 


78 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“Mais oui, c’est a dire comme perroquet gascon, ’ ’ 
laughed Fanny, ‘‘ma bonne etait Proven9ale. ” 

Monsieur Miquard bowed with the grace of a 
dancing-master and resumed his seat. Miss Gun- 
ther is right, ’ ’ he said. 

In geography she answered half a dozen ques- 
tions with almost equal readiness, but in history 
she struck several snags ; her chronological memory 
had always been poor. 

‘‘When did Napoleon win the battle of Ma- 
rengo?” inquired Professor Miller. 

“A little after the French revolution?” rather 
dubiously. 

“Well, yes. And when did the French revolution 
begin?” 

“Let me see — soon after the death of Frederick 
the Great.” 

“You don’t know the year?” 

Fanny shook her head. 

“Can you tell us who was the father of Frederick 
the Great?” 

“Oh, yes — you mean that old bulldozer that 
knocked down people on the street and made his 
children eat wurst and sauerkraut?” 

Professor Miller smiled. “You have a memory 
for striking facts, I see. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


79 


‘‘That will do now,” said Miss Key mar; “you 
can go now, child; we’ll let you know what we can 
do with you. ’ ’ 

“She will cause us trouble, I’m afraid,” said the 
principal when Miss Tomboy was gone; “with all 
her forwardness she cannot stand the slightest 
reproof. ’ ’ 

“But she’s not a bad girl,” said Miss Gunther; 
“only wild and unused to restraint. One other ex- 
planation of her peculiarities is the way she has 
been brought up, in a free-and-easy country house, 
without a mother’s care, and with no playmates of 
her own age. ’ ’ 

“That does explain many things,” remarked 
Professor Althoff; “she is certainly an exceptional 
youngster ; a sort of wayward boy in petticoats ; but 
still with the sensitiveness of a young girl. In some 
respects she is ahead of her age ; four out of five 
children are so embarrassed by the presence of 
strangers that they are afraid to say a word ; even 
boys betray that sort of stage-fright before a com- 
mittee of examiners ; but this girl seems to have all 
her wits about her the moment she gets interested 
or amused. About progress in her studies there 
will not be much trouble, if we put her in the 
second class to begin with.” 


80 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“Zis time permeet me to dissent,” said Monsieur 
Miquard, “ze progress she can make in a second 
class would be very small in French; she talks 
preety near well enough to teach ze class herself. 

After a brief debate the committee decided to put 
Fanny in the second class and let her attend the 
first class in French. 

“She will be at the head of her class in a short 
time,” predicted Miss Gunther. 

“I hope you are right,” said the principal; 
“with management and patience we can perhaps 
bring her to her senses in the course of time. ’ ’ 

That time, however, seemed still a long way off. 
At dinner, only a few hours after her bright dSbut 
in the lecture hall, Fanny furnished another proof 
of her reckless temper. 

She held her fork so short that the tips of her 
fingers almost touched the plate, and had no hesita- 
tion in eating vegetables with her knife ; and so hot 
that now and then her hand had to come to the as- 
sistance of her lips. She stooped, too, and had a 
trick of diving after morsels that threatened to give 
her fork the slip. 

‘ ‘ Sit straight, child, ’ ’ said the principal ; “it isn’t 
healthy to stoop like an engraver poring over a 
copperplate. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


81 


‘‘I always eat like that,” said the tomboy. 

“Did eat, you mean. Here you will have to try 
a different plan. Did they let you eat like that in 
Allenton?” 

“Yes, I told you,” snapped Miss Tomboy; “I 
didn’t always get home in time for dinner, but what 
there was they let me eat in peace anyhow. ’ ’ 

“Oh — and you suppose I find fault just to make 
trouble?” 

Fanny made no reply. 

“Did you hear what I asked you? Put down 
that knife now and answer my question. ’ ’ 

Fanny promptly dropped her knife and pushed 
away her plate. She even gave a look at the door 
as if she had more than half a mind to jump up 
and bolt. 

“What’s the matter with you? Are you sick?” 

“Yes, I’m sick of this kind of life,” muttered 
Miss Spitfire. 

Thus far the conversation had been carried on in 
an undertone, but girls are quick at physiognomy, 
and the twins had overheard a word or two and were 
watching the progress of the row. “Sit still now, 
Fanny,” whispered Miss Key mar; “after dinner 
you can go to your room and lie down if you do not 
feel well. ’ ’ 


82 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Fanny took tlie hint and did not come down to 
supper that evening, but about half an hour after 
she stole down on tiptoes and joined Nellie in the 
garden. 

“That new girl has been crying again and mussed 
up her bed,” reported the servant girl, who had 
been making the rounds with a basketful of clean 
towels. 

Miss Gunther went up to Fanny’s room. Yes, 
Bridget was right, there were shoe marks on the 
tomboy's bed and her pillow was drenched with 
tears again. The chairs had been pushed close to 
the window, and on the writing-table a lot of as- 
sorted pencils lay scattered about a large drawing- 
book or album. 

Was Fanny an artist, too, and had been seeking 
relief in pencil sketches? 

Miss Gunther opened the book. It was Fanny’s 
diary. For a moment the teacher hesitated. Had 
she a right to pry into the private memoranda of 
her little friend? But suppose that friend should 
happen to be a little more than half-crazy and to 
have been meditating flight? 

Duty for once seemed to second the promptings 
of curiosity, and the flrst pencil entry appeared to 
confirm Miss Gunther’s misgivings : 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


83 


‘‘ ‘Tliey won’t have me here long if this keeps on ; 
that mean old thing is trying to run me off, the way 
she acts. Maybe she’s afraid I might eat too much, 
but I know what I’ll do, I’ll write home fora lot of 
grub, and eat my real meals here in my room, when 
no one is watching. ’ 

“You relieve me,” thought Miss Gunther. 

“ ^And if they make me comedown to dinner. I’ll 
sit as straight as if I had swallowed a poker and 
just cut chicken feed with my knife while the rest 
are eating. ’ 

“ ‘But suppose pa won’t send me nothing? She 
is trying to set him against me, I know, and she’s 
got things all her own way now. Joe might do it 
if I only knew where to write. ’ 

“Who’s Joe, I wonder?” tittered Miss Gunther. 

“ ‘But if they catch him at it she will run him off. 
Uncle Philip has no children of his own, but he 
hasn’t been to see us since ma is dead.’ ” 

Then the diarist broke into poetry, or poetic 
quotations : 

“ ‘ In the day we wandered foodless. 

Little Willie cried for bread, 

In the night we wandered homeless. 

Little Willie cried for bed. 


84 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


Parted at the workhouse door, 

Not a word we said; 

Oh, so tired was poor Willie, 

And so sweetly sleep the dead. 

“ ‘In the midst of winter. 

They laid him in the earth. 

The world brought in the New Year 
In a tide of mirth: 

But for lost little Willie 
Not a tear we crave; 

Cold and hunger cannot wake him. 

In his workhouse grave. 

Poor little Willie ! Not a friend was nigh. 

When on the cold ground he crouched down to die. 

“ ‘No room for little Willie, 

In the world he had no part; 

On him stared the gorgon eye 
Through which looks no heart 
Come to me, said Heaven, 

And if Heaven will save 
• Little matters if the door 
Be a workhouse grave.’ ” 

Then, with a sudden return to absolute prose : 

“ ‘Wonder if Nellie could find some kid to run 
down town and buy me a snack of cheese and 
crackers.’ ” ' 

Miss Gunther burst out laughing, and had to 
struggle with a temptation to take a copy for the 
benefit of Professor Althoff. It would have kept him 
chuckling for a month, she knew. But then he 
could not be relied upon to keep a secret, and on 
second thought Miss Gunther concluded to forbear. 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


85 


CHAPTEE YI. 

“Aee you asleep, Fan?” asked Nellie about half 
an hour after the lights had been put out and the 
front door barred. 

“No, what is it?” 

“Put on cloth, and let’s unpack your littlest 
trunk now. ’ ’ 

“Now? Why, it’s pitch dark!” 

“Oh, never you mind. I’ll make light.” 

Softly and noiselessly Nellie screened the two 
windows and then took a coiled wax-candle from a 
nook of her drawer and struck a match on the floor. 

“Why, that’s clever!” laughed Miss Tomboy 
with a quick appreciation of the chance for fun; 
“where did you get that?” 

“I tell after I see your secrets,” whispered Blue 
Eyes; “quick now, give me key.” 

“Here it is,” said Fanny ; “wait, let me see that; 
you don’t know how to open that lock.” 

Nellie held the candle, but looked disappointed 


86 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


wlien the secrets of the little trunk began to unfold 
themselves, piece by piece. 

“What? No cake at all?” she asked, pulling out 
another unlaundered gown and rummaging the trunk 
for its bottom contents. 

“Ouch! W^hat’s him?” she cried, snatching 
back her hand and giving her finger a suck; “some- 
thing stung me, you keep snake in there? or pet 
squirrel?” 

“No, nothing but my frog,” said Fanny; “but I 
don’t think he would — hold that candle, please.” 

“Oh, dear! the glass broke!” she wailed; “my 
poor pet’s housie is gone!” 

“That old glass pricked me,” said Blue Eyes; 
“what make you put such things in there?” 

“Wait — where is — he’s dead,” said Fanny, with 
something like a sob. “Look here,” holding up a 
little leathery object; “he came out and got pressed 
flat, poor, sweet thing! It looks like I can’t keep a 
pet; I don’t know what broke this glass, unless 
somebody stamped on it, just for meanness. And 
they wouldn’t let me keep my doggie, after I got 
him here alive; I wouldn’t have let him die, I 
know; maybe they were afraid he’d eat too much. 
But this little thing could have lived on flies and 
crumbs. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


87 


“Never mind,” said Nellie, “you and me buries 
him to-morrow and put a sign on his grave and say 
he die from one kick. ’ ’ 

“And look, my birdie got mussed up, too; the 
wing is all crumpled. ’ ’ 

“What? You put live birds in there, too?” 

“No, he was stuffed, ” laughed Fanny. “Oh, let 
that alone, please ! ’ * 

Blue Eyes had picked up the old jacket with 
the torn sleeve and held it out at arm’s length. 
“Oh, and this!” holding up a dirty shoe with the 
tips of her fingers; “what make you pack up such 
stuff?” 

“You don’t understand that — you have never been 
out in the country,” said Fanny, patting her old 
shoes; “if you only knew all the nice places those 
little fellows have carried me to — up to Deer Lodge, 
and the Devil’s Pulpit, and the Nine Fountains in 
the woods where we used to find mayflowers, and 
all around Pine Brook, where you can catch forty 
perch in one afternoon. I caught forty-two one 
evening, besides a carp that weighed six pounds, 
and I didn’t get home in time for supper, and guess 
what pa said when I did get back: ‘You’ll catch a 
fish as big as old Mrs. Bremser yet, if you keep 
on;’ that’s all he said, and I had all the supper I 


88 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


wanted that night, in spite of her. And in clear 
weather we went up to Lookout Kock, where you 
could see Tower Peak and the Ilsen Burg and the 
Cloud Mountains, where there were dragons in old 
times, and if we had time we took a peep into 
Haller’s Cave and picked up pieces of mountain 
glass that bend like paper and you can look 
through like through a window, and pa showed me 
the place where somebody had cut a mark of a cross 
in the rocks, and they said there was a treasure 
buried near there, and somebody would find it some 
day. And we did find such nice things ; squirrel 
nests, and large caterpillars that make butterflies as 
big as your hand, and bluebird eggs and elfin stones. 
And there were so many wild berries in the woods. ’ ’ 
Nellie had put her wax-candle down, and suddenly 
caught her friend around the neck. “Oh, dear!” 
said she, “don’t I wish me could see all those 
things? No wonder you gets homesick!” 

She picked up the old shoes again and contem- 
plated them with a new kind of interest. “No, you 
right,” with another hug; “I wouldn’t sell them 
for hundred dollar if they were mine and been 
along to all so sweet places. ’ ’ 

Fanny made no reply, but pressed the sympa- 
thizer’s hand. 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


89 


‘‘Say, Fanny,” resumed Blue Eyes, “next year, 
when vacation come, will you take me along to see 
all that, if I try with all my might and be good to 
you?” 

“Yes, you must come, that’s all about it,” said 
Fanny. “Pa likes you already, and would be glad 
to have you stay, and — lowering her voice — 
“may be she wouldn’t say anything against it 
either. ’ ’ 

“Your mother? Oh, she’s good,” said Nellie 
confidently ; “ I can tell that by a way she put up 
your things and imbroider your apron for keepsake. ’ ’ 

“Why, that’s no keepsake at all,” sneered 
Fanny; “she — but, say, you make me remember 
something ; she did give me one keepsake, and I de- 
clare, I never looked at it yet ; where’s that — oh, Nell, 
what became of my little basket with knickknacks?” 

“Do you mean this?” opening the closet door, 
and producing a basketful of miscellanies. 

“Yes, there it is! Now let’s see who is the best 
guesser, ” laughed Fanny, holding up the little 
package — “honor bright, I have not the least idea 
what it could be, no more than you have.” 

“A letter-weight with your names on,” suggested 
Nellie. 

“I say it’s some perfume, or a piece of scented 


90 


TAMINO A TOMBOY. 


soap; she’s too stingy to have any engraving done 
for me. ” 

‘‘Perhaps it’s something good to eat?” 

“Or — oh, pshaw — let’s open it and be done,” 
laughed the tomboy, losing her patience. Here, cut 
this string, I can’t break it. Now — oh , look ! Why, 
that’s a golden watch — it’s hers, and look at this 
piece of paper : 

“ ‘For my darling daughter.’ ” 

“Did you ever!” stammered Fanny; then with a 
blush of sincere gratitude and contrition — “she 
isn’t half bad, now, is she?” 

‘ ‘ Oh, my, no ! And here’s some more, ’ ’ said Blue 
eyes, taking up a little sealed envelope; “there’s 
money in there — look! didn’t I tell? Five little 
gold dollars!” (another hug and five kisses) “we’re 
all rich now. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I didn’t ^^k she would do that, ’ ’ mused Fanny, 
who had sat down on her bed to examine the treasure 
trove at leisure; “oh, Nellie, and do you know I 
never” — she stopped, ashamed to confess the whole 
turpitude of her conduct. 

“You never thank her half enough for it, did 
you?” asked Blue Eyes, with the shrewd guess of a 
mind-reader. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


91 


‘‘Nor the other half either,” whispered Fanny; 
■‘I just skipped out and never talked to her.” 

“Say, never do that some more,” said Nellie 
solemnly; “you lose great good friend some days.” 

Fanny wound up her watch, then put it down, 
and covered her face with both hands — perhaps to 
hide a deeper blush. 

The little mind-reader gave her a chance for retro- 
spection. 

“It’s get late, dear,” said she at last; “shall we 
make bed and puts the candle out?” 

“Yes, just wait a minute,” said Fanny; “we can’t 
let this lay around, can we? They would take it 
away, I suppose?” 

“Oh, no; Orla got a watch, but not as fine as 
yours,” said Blue Eyes; “and the Swartz girls 
have money often ; Melanie, she show me three half 
dollar last week. Just put yours in pocketbook 
and no one know but Nellie. ’ ’ 

“And no one else shall have a share of it, Nell,” 
said Fanny, giving her friend a good-night hug. 
“Now out with your candle, here goes for a nice 
dream of Allen ton. ” 

Two weeks went by, and on two following Sun- 
days Fanny had joined the excursion party, when 
the principal assembled the girls in the lecture- 


92 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


room and let them take their choice between indoor 
and outdoor pastimes. A considerable plurality 
always took their chance with the outing committee, 
but on the third Sunday Fanny decided to stay. 
She could plead the usual excuse without straining 
the truth ; for nearly half a month a feeling of un- 
performed duty had weighed on her soul, and she 
wanted to avail herself of this chance to write her 
folks a good, long letter. 

So, after breakfast, she went up to her room and 
locked the door to prevent intrusion. There were 
so many things she wanted to write about that she 
could not be at a loss for a beginning half as much 
as for an end ; only the choice of the apostrophe 
made her hesitate : 

“Dear father and mother?” or “Dear parents?” 

After chewing her penholder for at least ten 
minutes she crumpled up her first attempts, and 
began a new sheet : 

“My Own Deae Papa: This is Sunday, and 
by my watch I have lots of time before dinner, so 
I thought I had better let you know how I am get- 
ting on. And before I forget it : tell mamma I am 
a thousand times obliged for that watch ; it is the 
prettiest in the house ; Miss Keymar keeps hers in 
a velvet case, with blue-glass pearls, but it isn’t near 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


93 


as pretty as mine. On the day I left I was so out 
of my mind that I forgot thanking ma ; I forgot my 
butterfly catcher, too, and I wish you would send 
it; it’s in the stable on the first rack next to White 
Bess. Don’t sell Bess, please, I want to ride her 
when I come back ; I found I can manage her all 
right. We have no horses here and no cows or 
dogs either, nothing but a place they call their 
stable, for horses to be put in when they have 
country-visitors. They haven’t even cats, except 
old Mrs. Scofiield, the steward; she’s the meanest 
old cat you ever saw. And there isn’t a bird in the 
house ; they haven’t got much of anything but books. 
Books, they have an awful lot ; more than anybody 
could read if he tried. So where’s the use to have 
so many. 

“And there’s no use stuffing a person with so much 
arithmetic; I know we could live a thousand years 
in Allenton and never be bothered with such stuff. 
I wouldn’t say anything if it was not for the long 
divisions, and the rule of three ; but the worst of 
all is fractions; its more than human nature can 
stand; 27 and W divided by 8 and f|; I leave 
it to you if that isn’t enough to make your hair 
turn gray in one night. 

“This isn’t a bad country ; their apples beat ours, 
and there must be dead loads of berries in the 
mountains ; I saw a boy bring in a two-gallon lot in 
a basket the other day, and he had picked them all 
in the forenoon. That’s what I should like to do; 


94 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


but they won’t let us. If we do go out we have to 
march two and two, in a long line, like geese wad- 
dling out to a pasture, and they go so slow ; I often 
feel like jumping a fence and making a break for 
the woods before they can catch me ; but if I did I 
would never come back to that old jail; I just could 
not do it. I got so I cannot look at the mountains 
at all; it’s like a lot of nice cherries on a tree you 
cannot climb. 

“I’m glad you took my little doggie back again, 
pa; lean see it now, he wouldn’t live here a month, 
and if we could raise him he would run away as soon 
as he had got the least bit of sense. But I couldn’t 
do that, anyhow ; I would have nothing to give him, 
poor thing. They watch you like cats when you 
eat, and I’m afraid almost to touch anything I like, 
for if I do and eat a little bit too much or too fast 
there is no end of the jawing. We’re living worse 
than your prisoners in the courthouse ; what they 
did get they could eat in a way to suit themselves ; 
I would sooner starve than be watched and worried 
all the time. 

“I’m sorry if I think of all the money this costs 
you, and what nice things we could have bought 
with it, and here it’s not much use to you or me; I 
have no head for studying, like some of them. 
You remember that Danish girl that brought me my 
hat and gloves when you was talking to me at the 
door; well, she can draw almost anything; this 
week she finished a wolf’s head in black chalk; it 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


95 


just looks like it was alive. And if she gets a 
chance at the piano she can play good enough to 
give concerts; I’m blamed if I can see how she can 
do it. 

‘‘We have to take our turn waiting at table and 
clean our own rooms; but that isn’t all; on Wed- 
nesday afternoon we have to mend our own clothes, 
and darn our stockings. It’s often so hot that I 
would give a dollar for leave to take a run out in 
the garden, but they won’t let you stir, and you 
have to waste the nice afternoon getting your fingers 
sore and your eyes aching, and all for an old stock- 
ing that you could buy ready-made for fifteen cents. 
If they would let me I’d pick fifteen cents’ worth 
of berries to buy a pair and be done. 

“The little pet tree-toad you caught for me died, 
and Nellie and me made him a good grave, because 
he had been a good pet. He always used to come to 
the top of his ladder when I brought him a fly and 
never tried to bite anybody ; he was the cutest little 
thing I ever saw, but maybe that’s the reason he 
got out of this so quick. He had too much sense 
to stay in a place like this. 

“When vacation comes you needn’t trouble to 
fetch me; I’ll run all the way afoot. I’ll be so glad 
to get back; only I’m afraid I will kiss some of you 
dead. Yes, I know. I’ll kiss everybody — ma, too, 
and all the cats and doggies. Eosa used to hit 
Foxie with a wet mop when he jumped her and 
wouldn’t stop romping on the floor; and that’s just 


96 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


what I will do; I’ll hug you all; so you had better 
have a mop ready if I get too funny. Give my 
love to Mr. Sanders and all the neighbors, and 
don’t forget, Your own Tomboy-Girl, 

“Fanny. 

“P.S. — Can I have drawing-lessons? I should 
like to send you a picture, and I know I could learn 
that quicker than darning old socks. 

“P.S. No. 2. — Say, pa, could you manage to send 
me a little box full of cakes and sausages? Nellie is 
always so hungry when we go to bed in the evening, 
and I, too. ’ ’ 

The Maidens were at supper, with Preacher San- 
ders and a few young neighbors for guests, when 
Fanny’s letter arrived with the evening mail. The 
squire read a few passages to himself ; then com- 
manded silence and read the whole aloud. 

“Mr. Sanders,’’ said he, “do you remember how 
many girls they have in that institute?” 

“About forty, I think, besides the day scholars.” • 

“Well, now, tell me frankly: Do you believe 
that any one of them could write a letter like 
that?” 

“I don’t know, but I admit that I doubt it.” 

“What do you say, Annie?” 

“They might write what they call more correct,” 
said Mrs. Malden; “but for wit Fanny is clearly 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


97 


ahead of the average of her age; she’s a brighter 
girl than I imagined, I confess. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, then, it’s my turn to make a confession,” 
said the squire; “the fact is I am getting ashamed 
of myself to keep a girl like her boxed up in that 
prison ; I feel like hitching up and fetching her back 
right away. ’ ’ 

“Oh, Henry! It’s nothing but homesickness, 
and she will soon get over that. ’ ’ 

“Get used to it like eels to frying, you mean, or 
like a life-prisoner to his cellf She’s fretting her 
life away, and I don’t see why we should keep tor- 
menting her, the only child we’ve got. She has 
seen the difference between home-life and college- 
life, now, and that is the main thing, remarked the 
squire. ’ ’ 

“I can’t help thinking it would be a mistake to 
take her away just now.” 

“Worse than that, it would almost be wicked,” 
said the preacher, who had read Fanny’s letter over 
again. “Mrs. Malden is right; it’s just the usual 
homesickness of a child suddenly transferred to the 
care of strangers, but in a few months her habits 
will have adapted themselves to the new circum- 
stances, and the benefits will be lifelong. Even 
this first month has wrought a decided change for 


98 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


t'lie better ; it would be like tearing out a plant that 
lias just begun taking root in a new soil. ’ ’ 

Squire Malden made no reply. They had silenced 
but not convinced him ; his heart still pleaded the 
cause of his homesick child. There were other 
motives, too, that he hardly ventured to define, even 
to himself; he had felt lonesome these last few 
weeks, and could not take a ramble in the hills and 
woods without 3^earning for the companionship of 
his merry Tomboy. The servants missed her too; 
Kosa and Joe had been sulking ; and her little play- 
mates often looked wistfully over the hedge of the 
deserted garden. It was all very well to talk of 
duty and expediency, but — 

“ Still we can feel, where’er we go, 

That there has passed a brightness from this earth;” 

and Squire Malden somehow could not get rid of a 
misgiving that Fanny was bartering the actual sun- 
shine of life for the imaginary, or merely possible, 
advantages of a fashionable education. 

“Say, Eosa” — he suddenly turned to the servant 
girl, who had overheard the parson’s remarks and 
had been lingering about the room in the vague 
hope of an autocratic veto — ‘‘say, get a box, will 
you? By the beard of the prophet! They shall not 
starve her, anyhow. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


99 


‘‘Wouldn’t it be best to let her get used to eating 
her meals at regular hours?” 

But no contradiction would avail this time, and 
a twenty by thirty-inch box, a foot deep, was forth- 
with stuffed with sausage, biscuits, apples and 
sponge-cakes, with a lot of raisins and preserves for 
good measure. 


100 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


CHAPTEE VII. 

The next Wednesday was one of the sultriest days 
of that warm summer, and in the afternoon the in- 
door atmosphere became so oppressive that some of 
the girls began to nod over their darning task. 

Fanny had never been more utterly homesick. 
She felt dizzy and saw the points of her knitting* 
needles as through a mist. 

“Go and wash your hands and your face, and 
things will go better, ’ ’ said Miss Gunther when she 
saw her lay down her work in despair. 

“Oh, what’s the use?” said she wearily, and the 
girls began to titter. 

“Wait, I’ll straighten that out for you,” said 
Peggie Swartz, picking up the grimy-looking stock- 
ing; but Fanny jerked it back again. 

“You leave that alone, now, ” said she snappishly. 

Just then the principal entered the room. She 
went slowly along the row of chairs, now and then 
peeping over one of the knitters’ shoulders, or stop- 
ping to call attention to some mistake. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


101 


‘‘Don’t get your stocking too tight, Peggie,” she 
whispered; “the mended places are most liable to 
tear again anyhow. ’ ’ 

Fanny’s turn came next. “How are you getting 
on, child? Why, what’s the matter — are you tired?” 

No reply. 

“Let me see that stocking. 

Fanny half turned her head, and then collapsed 
again into sullen apathy. 

“I asked you to let me see that stocking; can’t 
you hear? What’s the matter with you?” Then 
picking up the bag-like piece of soiled wool, “Look 
here, girls, did you ever see a more untidy -looking 
thing in this room? And a girl of her age! You 
ought to be ashamed of yourself ; never let me see 
another such piece of work. ’ ’ 

“My little six-year old sister can beat that,” re- 
marked Peggie; “but then mother makes her wash 
her hands.” 

Miss Flora compared Fanny’s stocking to an old 
coffee-bag, and that set off the laughing girl, and 
the tittering fit became contagious. 

Fanny picked up her work again, while all eyes 
were fixed on her, Nellie’s with pity. Miss Gun- 
ther’s with astonishment and vague apprehension, 
the rest with derision. 


102 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘ ‘ Come, let me help, ’ ’ said Nellie as soon as the 
principal had left the room; “you get him all 
^ wrong. ’ ’ 

“Oh, leave me alone, can’t you,” growled Fanny. 

“Let me try, please,” insisted Blue Eyes; “if 
you keep on you gets so tangled nobody can help 
after awhile. ’ ’ 

“I told you I don’t want no help,” cried the 
tomboy; “now you mind your own business” — 
looking this way and that; then suddenly doubling 
up her stocking she dashed it against the door with 
a violence that scattered the needles in all directions. 

“Look out ! she’s getting crazy, ’ ’ screamed Peggie 
Swartz, upsetting her chair and retreating behind 
her sister. 

“Keep your seats, every one of you!” said Miss 
Gunther in an excited whisper — but it was too late. 

“What’s the matter here?” asked the principal, 
re-entering the room. 

Nobody volunteered an explanation, but the 
stocking, the ball of wool and the scattered needles 
told their own story. 

“Did you dare to fling down your work like 
this?” she asked, turning upon the culprit; “now 
you answer my question; did you do that on pur- 
pose?” 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


103 


‘‘Yes, ma’am,” said Fanny. 

“Step out here and pick it up again.” 

Fanny did not stir. 

“Are you going to pick that up now or not?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I ain’t going to do it.” 

For a moment Miss Keymar stood still, staring 
at the offender in speechless surprise ; but she soon 
recovered her self-command. 

“Very well,” said she, “go up to your room. 
I’ll attend to your case. 

Fanny stalked out of the room, then flew upstairs 
and tore out her trunk from its resting place behind 
the bed, fully resolved to pack her baggage for 
Allenton. She had already emptied the contents of 
her bureau drawers when Nellie and Miss Gunther 
entered the room. 

“Why, Fanny, what in the name of common 
sense is the matter with you?” asked the young 
teacher. 

Fanny crouched down on a little footstool and 
sobbed aloud. 

“Child, come to your senses, ’ ’ said Miss Gunther. 
“I want to talk to you.” 

“I can’t, I — I want to go home,” sobbed Fanny. 


104 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“You mustn’t talk like that, dear; take this chair 
now, and act like a sensible girl. ’ ’ 

“I can’t get along in this place; they’re all 
against me;” with intermittent sobs. 

“You are mistaken, dear,” said the teacher 
kindly; “we all like you, and if you would just be 
a little bit reasonable you would get along as easy 
as any of them, or easier. All your teachers would 
be sorry if you should do anything foolish now, 
and you would make me ashamed of my own 
Allenton. ” 

“They just want me to stay so they get a chance 
to tease me, ’ ’ growled Fanny, trying to avoid the 
teacher’s eye. 

“You cannot possibly believe that, dear,” said 
Miss Gunther ; “do you suppose that is what Peggie 
and Nellie had in their mind when they offered to 
help you? And do you think that’s the reason I 
came up here to help all I can, now? I will have to 
go and leave you if you talk like that. Now make 
up your mind: will you be sensible? Or” — tak- 
ing a step toward the door — “do you want me to 
go?” 

“I — want you to stay,” sobbed Fanny, clutching 
the teacher’s dress. 

Miss Gunther turned, took a chair and drew 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


105 


Fanny on her lap. “How hot you are, you bad 
tomboy,” she whispered, patting the culprit’s face. 
“Get her a glass of water, Nellie.” 

Nellie had collapsed in a chair near her own bed, 
sobbing as woefully as her friend, but now started 
up and flew to the washstand. 

“Come, now, drink. Fan,” she coaxed, “you 
made me cry, too, with your bad talk; haven’t I 
been good to you all I could? Stop cry now and 
drink and let me wash you face. ’ ’ 

“There, now, ” said Miss Gunther, “will you ever 
tell us again you have no friends here? You surely 
could not have been in your right mind when you 
talked like that. You will get over all this, dear, 
and be our own good girl again. But do you know 
what you must do now?” 

“I don’t know,” sobbed Fanny. 

“Yes, you do. You must go down now and ask 
Miss Keymar’s pardon.” 

“She wants to get rid of me,” pouted the Tom- 
boy; “she’s always nagging me and scolding me 
about nothing. ’ ’ 

“Nothing? Do you call that nothing if you re- 
fuse to answer her questions and defy her before 
the whole class? Just ask yourself what would be- 
come of this place if we should allow them all to act 


106 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


like that. Miss Keymar makes all possible allow- 
ance for what I told her about your folks, or she 
would not have had so much patience this afternoon. 
She would have sent you home.” 

‘‘I wish she would,” snarled the tomboy. 

‘‘You mean you would rather be disgraced and 
make your parents miserable than show that you 
are sorry for the way you acted?” 

Fanny gulped, but made no reply. 

“Let me ask you one question,” said Miss Gun- 
ther; “did you ever ask anybody’s pardon in your 
life?” 

Fanny shook her head. 

“What! Not your father’s either?” 

“My father’s?” — looking up with an expression 
of sincere surprise; “no; he always was good to 
me. He let me do what I liked. ’ ’ 

“That explains it,” thought Miss Gunther. 
“And your mother?” she asked; “tell me honestly 
now, was she satisfied, too, to let you do what you 
pleased?” 

“No, I made her mad once in awhile,” admitted 
the tomboy after some hesitation. 

“And then you asked her pardon, didn’t you 
now?” 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


107 


“No, I never. Slie didn’t expect me to. She 
knows I couldn’t do it, that’s why.” 

“Oh, Fanny, Fanny! Don’t you see then we 
must make up for lost time? My dear girl, how do 
you expect to get along in the world with your habit 
of butting your head against every wall and expect- 
ing everything to give way? You’d have everybody 
against you before you knew where you are at. In 
Allenton that might do as long as you were a little 
romp of a tomboy with a kind father like yours ; 
but you wouldn’t find another such place in a year, 
and what will become of you if you keep on in 
this way? You can’t defy the whole world; your 
own sense ought to tell you that. Shall we go 
down now and see Miss Key mar?” 

Fanny’s eyes had filled with tears, but it was 
some time before she made an articulate reply. 
“I can’t do it. Miss Gunther,” said she at last. 

“You can, child, and you must. Oh, heavens! 
Isn’t there any way to open your eyes and let you 
see things as they really are?” 

Miss Gunther paused and looked out in the gar- 
den. Nellie was crying again. 

“Come, take those two chairs, Nellie and you,” 
said Miss Gunther; “sit down here, you two, and 
let me tell you a true story about a foolish, way- 


108 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


ward girl tliat lost lier cliance for happiness and 
made herself and all her folks wretched, just be- 
cause of an insane fit of stubbornness ; let me tell you 
what happened to her, and then, Fanny, if you still 
tell me ‘I can’t,’ I’ll give you up for a lost child 
and never waste any time trying to help you again. 

The young teacher’s eye wandered back to the 
garden and the blue mountains beyond. Her mind 
seemed to dwell in the past. 

“It is so warm in here,’’ said she; “let us open 
this window. ’ ’ 

A stream of cool air entered the room; clouds 
had loomed up in the south, and twitches of electric 
fire darted along their dark seams. There was a 
thunderstorm brewing. 

“What a lovely breeze!’’ said Miss Gunther, 
with her eyes still on the mountains; “say, Fanny, 
how old are you?’’ 

“I’ll be sixteen next month.’’ 

“Sixteen? Then you are old enough to under- 
stand — yes, children, I’m going to tell you about a 
girl that wasn’t much older, when she thought she 
could run her head through every wall, and you 
will see what came of it. Her name was —never 
mind, what ; let us call her Lucy — an orphan girl, 
but brought up in comfort, her grandmother’s only 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


109 


pet. She wasn’t a bad girl — on the contrary, no 
child of her age was more easily touched to tears by 
the sight of misery ; if she saw a shivering beggar 
boy on the porch she would never stop teasing her 
grandmother till the little scamp had been stuffed 
with all the good things they had in the house, and 
if her grandmother was sick she would not allow 
any of the servants to do for her what a girl could 
possibly do, and often ran half a mile to the drug 
store in rain and storm; but she had one odious 
fault — stubbornness rather than own her blunders she 
would run the risk of losing her best friends, and 
like Fanny she would sooner have bitten off her own 
tongue than ask anybody’s pardon. Her grand- 
mother was strict enough with the servants — too 
strict, Lucy often thought, but she could only spoil 
her little granddaughter. ‘Why should I scold 
her, poor thing?’ she used to say; ‘it’s bad enough 
that she has lost her father and mother. ’ ’ ’ 

“Was Lucy pretty?” asked Blue Eyes, who was 
leaning against the window, with one arm around 
Fanny’s neck. 

“I think so,” said the young teacher, with a faint 
blush; “at least that’s what people called her. But 
that does not matter. Listen what happened. In 
her eighteenth year Lucy made the acquaintance of 


110 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


a young artist, wlio gave lier lessons in landscape 
painting, and after a few months persuaded her to 
send one of her water-color studies to a prize exhi- 
bition of amateur work. Another girl took the first 
prize, and Lucy was so provoked at what she called 
the stupidity of the judges that she vowed never to 
enter their gallery again, and moreover threatened 
to burn her landscape as soon as ever they had 
returned it. 

“ ‘I know a better plan,’ said the young artist; 
“let me send it to another exhibition, managed by 
real connoisseurs. ’ 

“ ‘I won’t do it,’ snapped Lucy; ‘I’ll never try 
for a prize again. ’ 

“‘Try once more,’ coaxed Walther — I think 
that was the artist’s name. 

‘ ‘ ‘Yes, and be snubbed once more, ’ sneered Lucy ; 
‘I let you fool me once, but I’m not going to do it 
again. ’ 

“ ‘You will lose your teacher if you talk like that, ’ 
was all her grandmother said. 

“‘I don’t care, ’ was the saucy reply; ‘and I 
don’t believe it,’ she thought to herself. Girls 
have keen eyes in such matters, and somehow Lucy 
knew this teacher would come back, no matter what 
she said. She had noticed that he drew her profile 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Ill 


a little oftener than the needs of all the albums in 
the neighborhood would explain. 

‘‘But when he did go away, though only on a visit 
to his sister, and with the promise to be back in a 
week, Lucy all at once discovered that weeks could 
stretch like months, and that no seven days of her 
life had ever seemed half as long. She had often 
contradicted Walther in a manner that would have 
driven away nine out of ten other visitors, but she 
now felt glad she had never gone a step too far. If 
he ever should really lose his temper and leave for 
good she suspected that earth would seem- a dreary 
dwelling place. 

“Her grandmother, too, at last saw which way 
things were drifting, but she liked Walther better 
than any other young man of her acquaintance, and 
when her two pets one day entered her room arm in 
arm, she gave them her blessing and thanked heaven 
that the dearest wish of her fond heart had been 
fulfilled. 

“And now you may suppose that love and happi- 
ness wrought a change in Lucy’s character? Wal- 
ther thought so, too, but he could not help noticing 
that trifles still sufficed to spoil his bride’s good 
humor for days together, and one day he resolved to 
ask her a very serious question. ’ ’ 


112 


TAMINa A TOMBOY, 


Miss Gunther paused, and a keen observer would 
have noticed that it cost her an inward struggle to 
continue her story, but the two girls ascribed her 
silence to the sudden gust of dust whirls that swept 
by from the street, heralding the outbreak of a 
storm. 

“Go on, please,” begged Blue Eyes; “I wonder 
so much what he will ask. ’ ’ 

Fanny said nothing, but no story she had ever 
heard or read had so deeply engaged her personal 
interest. Now and then she felt as if she were 
listening to a i)rediction of her own fate, and as if 
the heroine’s name must have been Fanny, instead of 
Lucy. 

“Yes,” continued Miss Gunther, “Walther felt 
forebodings of impending trouble, and one day he 
made up his mind to ask his bride a grave question. 
They had been air-castle building — planning a tour 
to Italy, Switzerland, and southern France, with a 
mutual promise to let the impressions of that jour- 
ney decide the choice of a permanent home, when 
Walther took his bride’s hand: ‘Tell me, Lucy,’ 
he asked, ‘would you still love me as you do now 
if we should be unlucky and have to keep house 
with poverty?’ 

“ ‘Oh, don’t be foolish, Walther,’ she snarled. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


113 


vexed at the interruption of her rosy daydreams. 
‘Whatever put such a question in your head?’ 

“ ‘It’s a question that has been weighing on my 
mind for quite awhile,’ said Walther; ‘tell me 
now, would your heart still be true to me if we 
should get poor?’ 

“ ‘Oh, don’t,’ she growled, ‘don’t keep harping 
on such nonsense ; grandma is rich and your pic- 
tures sell as fast as you finish them. ’ 

“ ‘But then, you know, trouble often rises like 
clouds in a clear sky; you can’t tell what might 
happen ; your fortune might be shipwrecked and I 
fall sick.’ 

“ ‘I don’ t want to listen to such talk, ’ she snapped. 
‘I told you once, but you want such plain hints. 
I hate calamity howlers. ’ 

“ ‘I hope for the best, as much as you do, but you 
ought to answer my question and take a weight off 
my heart, ’ insisted Walther. 

“ ‘Well, then, it’s your own fault if my answer 
does not suit your programme, ’ said Miss Spitfire. 
‘I don’t want to keep house with poverty, as you 
call it; if there was really any such risk I’d sooner 
not marry at all. ’ 

“He turned pale, but tried to master his mis- 


114 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


givings. ‘You do not mean what you say, love,’ 
taking her hand — ‘you cannot possibly mean it!’ 

“ ‘I just mean what I say, and that’s all about it, ’ 
she cried, jerking her hand away ; ‘I’m just about 
tired of your foolish talk. ’ 

“Unfortunately Lucy’s grandmother had over- 
heard her last words, and thought it time to mediate 
— ’With results she had little foreseen. 

“ ‘Don’t mind that silly girl, Walther, ’ said she, 
‘it’s just one of her April weather tantrums; she 
doesn’t know her own mind for ten minutes to- 
gether. ’ 

“ ‘Yes, I do,’ cried Lucy, now losing her temper 
altogether; ‘I just mean what I say, and so he will 
find out if he keeps nagging me. Let him go and 
keep house with poverty if he’s hankering after 
such housekeepers; every one to his taste; but I’ve 
to decline with thanks. I’m quite content to let 
him go his way if mine doesn’t suit him.’ ’’ 

“Oh, how mean she is!’’ cried Blue Eyes, “and 
such good man! She will lose him, I know!” 

“She was not mean, only stubborn,” said Miss 
Gunther, “and stricken with an infatuation worse 
than blindness when her fits of ill-temper got the 
better of her. Her grandmother knew that, but her 
words almost killed her lover. ‘Is that your last 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


115 


word, dear?’ he asked, trying to get hold of her 
hand, but she tore herself away and whisked out of 
the room. 

‘‘Her poor old grandmother followed her to her 
growlery, but found the door locked. ‘Here I 
stay,’ thought Lucy, ‘till he comes and begs my 
pardon. ’ 

“And Walther did come. For nearly two hours 
he had walked up and down the park, with his brain 
afire, and struggling as against the loss of his rea- 
son ; then his wild thoughts gave way to a stern 
resolve, but before he left the city he returned to the 
house once more and knocked at his lost love’s door. 

“ ‘Open the door, Lucy,’ he cried; ‘I must speak 
to you ; my fate and yours is at stake ! Hear me 
before it is too late! You must hear me!’ 

“That sounded like a command, and Lucy’s only 
answer was a derisive laugh. ‘You won’t get in 
here if I can help it, ’ she cried, when he knocked 
again; ‘I’ve had all I can stand of your nonsense, 
and more, too.’ 

“He knocked again, but received no reply. 

“‘Lucy!’ he cried, ‘ I have to leave you ! Hear 
me before it is forever too late ! I ask you the last 
time!’ 

“Everything was still then, but Lucy knew that 


116 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


her lover was still lingering at her door, clinging to 
the last shadow of his hopes. A full minute passed. 
Then came the last knock — not an appeal for admis- 
sion this time. ‘ Good-by, then, Lucy, ’ said 
Walther; ‘God bless you and protect you.’ ” 

The teacher paused again, and Nellie rose and fell 
upon her neck, sobbing. Fanny only clutched her 
hand, but had suddenly turned pale. 

“Yes, you are right, children,” said Miss Gun- 
ther, “she had lost him forever. The days came 
and went, and every time the house bell rang or a 
carriage drew up at the door Lucy’s heart gave a 
start; she hoped her Walther had at last returned; 
but she hoped in vain. 

“Yet all this time she knew where a letter would 
reach him, and she also knew that four words would 
suffice to bring him back to her feet: ‘Forgive me 
and return;’ but those four words remained un- 
written. Did she expect him to ask her pardon? 
She heard that he was going to leave the city. Was 
he going to leave without a last appeal? A letter 
at last did arrive, and after a glance at the hand- 
writing she snatched it up and flew to her room. 
At last ! At last ! 

“She tore off the envelope and out fell the pieces 
of a broken engagement ring. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


117 


“ ‘You did not recall me, ’ began tbe few lines lie 
had added. ‘I have waited for you long; but lean 
wait no longer. I have to leave you, Lucy, because 
I cannot guarantee you a future of unbroken sun- 
shine, and you refused to promise me your love 
through gloom and light. While fortune smiles on 
you, you will never lack wooers, but you have lost 
one who loved you for your own sake. ’ 

‘ ‘ Then she did fly to her grandmother, shrieking ; 
then they did write and send to his lodgings in wild 
haste, but the messenger returned with the informa- 
tion that the young artist had left several hours 
ago, no one knew whither. ’ ’ 

“Oh, why did he not wait?” cried Blue Eyes; 
“could he not wait one day more if he love her so?” 

“He waited a long time,” said the teacher, “and 
he had loved her dearly, but he would not have been 
a man if he had not his own pride, too ; and he 
could not stand Lucy’s waywardness any longer.” 
“And what became of Lucy?” 

“Her luck left her — as she deserved,” said Miss 
Gunther. ‘ ‘ In less than a year after Walther’s depar- 
ture the failure of their business manager swept 
away her grandmother’s entire fortune. Their fine 
villa had to be sold, and the pet child of luxury 
was obliged to earn her own daily bread. ’ ’ 


118 


TAMim A TOMBOt. 


Fanny looked up, horror-struck. *‘Yes, earn her 
own bread,” repeated Miss Gunther; ‘‘the mere 
idea makes you turn pale ; but Lucy often told me 
that poverty was not her worst sorrow. There was 
something much, much worse, the thought of what 
might have been, if it had not been for her insane 
stubbornness. ’ ’ 

“She was just crazy,” said Blue Eyes. 

Fanny blushed and cast down her eyes. 

“Yes, child,” said Miss Gunther, reading her 
thoughts, “shall they say such things of my own 
girl?” 

“I will ask her — her pardon, ’ ’ stammered Fanny ; 
“ITl do it when she is alone some day,” she whis- 
pered, “so there won’t be a whole goose-gang of 
them cackling at me again” — clutching at the straw 
of a chance for postponing the dreaded moment. 

Miss Gunther smiled. “You are right,” she 
said, “we had better see her when she is alone, so 
let’s hurry up and wash your face; Miss Beymar 
is pretty sure to be in her own room, getting her 
mail ready at this time of the day.” 

Fanny felt herself trapped. “I’ll go then and be 
done with it, ’ ’ said she with the courage of despair. 

Two years ago she was caught in a rainstorm on 
one of her hunting trips, and on reaching Pine 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


119 


Brook on her way home, found the footlog gone and 
had to wade the torrent, waist deep, at the risk of 
being carried off her feet and drowned, but she made 
the attempt not half as reluctantly as she now went 
downstairs to face the wrath of the principal. 

She reached the door and stopped, half-inclined 
to turn back and brave the consequences, when she 
heard Miss Gunther coming downstairs. Shame, 
if not repentance, overcame her hesitation, and she 
opened Miss Key mar’s door. 

Miss Key mar was sitting at her desk, writing, 
but presently laid down her pen and faced the 
penitent. 

‘‘Well?” 

How gladly Miss Tomboy would have exchanged 
the horrors of that moment for the perils of Pine 
Brook! Her heart beat at fever-speed, but she 
could not speak. She would have given all her little 
savings, yes, and her gold watch, if Miss Gunther 
had only come in just then to help her out. But 
Miss Gunther had gone back to the classroom. 

“What is it, child?” asked the principal kindly. 

Fanny tried to speak, but could only sob. “Be 
— beg your pardon,” she choked out at last and 
burst out crying convulsively. 

“You made me very angry, Fanny,” said Miss 


120 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Eeymar, “and I meant to write to your father, but 
I see you are sorry for what you have done, and we 
won’t let this go any further if you give me your 
promise never to misbehave in that manner again. 
For the next time, remember, would be the last ; I 
would have to send you back home. ’ ’ 

“I can go without your leave, ” Miss Tomboy was 
on the point of blurting out ; but the defiant words 
took the form of another sob and she relapsed into 
her sullen silence. 

“Then you promise me that?” asked Miss 
Keymar. 

Fanny still hesitated, but saw a short way to ter- 
minate this interview and nodded her head. 

“Then give me your hand,” said the principal, 
“and I hope you will help me forget all that hap- 
pened to-day. You can go now. 

“Wait a minute,” said Miss Eeymar, when the 
penitent still lingered at the door; “it’s too late to 
go back to the classroom now, and a little too early 
for supper, but you can put on your hat and take 
this note to the bookstore for me. ’ ’ 

Miss Eeymar, too, was a mind-reader now and 
then, and had guessed the cause of Fanny’s hesita- 
tion. 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Miss Tomboy, with a sigh 


TAMINa A TOMBOY. 


121 


of relief, and started on her errand, glad as a truant 
who has been let off with a reprimand after expect- 
ing more striking arguments. Fanny would sooner 
have carried a message to the next post office town 
than have to go back to the knitting-room now. 


122 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


CHAPTEE VIII. 

Still Fanny tried to keep her promise. At the 
end of the month, when the teachers made their 
private reports to the principal, Miss Eeymar was 
glad to have three witnesses to the fact that Miss 
Tomboy had turned a new leaf and for the last three 
weeks had resisted the temptation to scandalize her 
class by an open outbreak of ill-temper. 

“She still pouts,” said Miss Lead, the teacher of 
English grammar and literature ; “but she does not 
contradict me any more and that is — what would 
you say ? — a step in the right direction. ’ ’ 

“And she’s trying to work out problems in her 
own room,” said the arithmetic teacher; “Miss 
Holden, her roommate, the other day showed me a 
large sheet of paper covered with essays in fractions, 
and that shows she is trying to improve, though 
her progress thus far, I am sorry to say, is not 
much to boast about. As for her conduct, I con- 
fess I’m afraid to give her a chance to go off again; 


TAMim A TOMBOY, 


123 


she doesn’ fc seem to be a bad girl, but she has to be 
handled as cautiously as an explosive mixture. ' ' 

“I had never any trouble with her in that way,” 
said Professor Althoif, the teacher of German gram- 
mar and composition. ‘‘I’ve bantered her unmerci- 
fully, just by way of experiment, to see how far it’s 
safe to go in that direction, but she always joins in 
the laugh at her own shortcomings, and keeps chuck- 
ling to herself, as a proof that she’s not merely 
tittering from the teeth outward, as some of them 
do when you take them to task. And what we con- 
sidered her prospensity for slan I now think is 
only a predilection for striking expressions. In her 
little spats with her playmates she will forgive 
pretty saucy talk whenever she is tickled by a new 
word. ’ ’ 

“In French zey cannot teach her many new 
words,” said Monsieur Miquard; “some of ze 
geerls beat her in orthography, but she is ze only 
one zat talk her own ideas ; ze rest just repeat a 
lesson. ’ ’ 

“Well, all things considered, don’t you think she 
will do?” asked Miss Gunther, who never missed a 
chance to put in a good word for her Allenton pet. 

“About her progress, you mean? Oh, I had 
never any doubt about that after the first day,” 


124 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


said the principal; ‘‘but her temper still gives me 
sore misgivings ; I’m always afraid some day she 
will do something that cannot be compromised. 

“It is a dreadful fault,” admitted Miss Gunther; 
“but her last experience will make her more careful, 
and I hope you will overlook her little shortcomings 
till she has got used to our system and doesn’t feel 
any longer like a wild wood-bird in a cage. ’ ’ 

Only Professor Althoff stuck to his first verdict. 
“They don’t know how to take her, that’s all, ” said 
he one day when he was alone with Miss Gunther. 

But then Professor Althoff could get along with 
anybody. All the girls enjoyed the grammar lessons 
— for his sake. His popularity eclipsed even that of 
Miss Gunther. Flora composed stanzas in honor of 
his bright eyes, and shrewd observers entertained a 
private suspicion that his magnetism had induced 
Orla Sassuwitch to stay over for a third term. To 
be sure, she teased the girls that ogled him from 
behind grape-arbors and half-open doors, but one 
day he left a rosebud on his desk, and the moment 
he had left the room the whole class made a rush 
for that desk. But Orla was too quick for them all, 
and waved her trophy with an air of triumph. 
Under pretext of a trip to the post office she con- 
trived to slip into a jeweler’s shop and order a 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


125 


golden medaillon with a Kussian inscription. In 
that mystic receptacle she carried the keepsake of 
her idol. That she carried it around her neck 
under a high lace collar did not prevent detection, 
but not one of the detectives could decipher the 
meaning of the Oriental hieroglyphics. 

But Nellie’s idolatry went even further. One 
evening Fanny caught her in the act of tattooing her 
arm with a number six darning needle and rubbing 
in blue ink-powder to perpetuate the initials of her 
Apollo. 

“Why, Nell, you must be crazy, ” laughed Miss 
Tomboy; “suppose Herr Althoff should catch you 
at that, and then what would you do ! And besides, 
there might be aniline in that powder, and that’s a 
kind of poison. ’ ’ 

“Oh, now, you hush, ’’coaxed Blue Eyes; “I don’t 
tease you and you must not tease me either; 
you’re a boy, half of you, and you know nothing 
about affair of the hearts. 

Fanny had to laugh till the tears got in her eyes ; 
but she, too, admitted that she liked grammar les- 
sons — under present circumstances. In composition 
she had several times been at the head of her class, 
and her many rivals fretted and wondered how she 
did it. 


126 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“Here’s a batch of remarkable productions on our 
week’s topic, ‘A picnic in the woods,’ ” said the 
genial professor one day; “some of you got poetical 
enough to make the nightingales drop dead with 
envy ; but if picnics were really conducted on that 
plan I’m afraid we couldn’t sell tickets at a nickel 
apiece. Sentiment is all right in its proper place, 
but, my dear young friends, do you suppose the 
members of an outing party are doing nothing but 
stalk about quoting Miss Lydia Languish and 
addressing apostrophes to yonder summit — ^so 
grandly, brightly, spiritually blue,’ ” — quoting one 
sample. “I confess I felt grandly, spiritually blue 
myself when I read that. ’ ’ 

All eyes turned on Flora Hoopole, but the con- 
vulsive tittering extended its contagion even to the 
culprit herself. 

“And here one of you describes a wood thrush as 
‘singing sweet anthems to the morn,’ ’’ continued 
the professor; “you cribbed that somewhere or 
other, and that’s all right, but then picnics do not 
come off at half-past three in the morning, unless 
the sheriff is on your track. There’s in fact only 
one really sensible essay in this lot, and that’s 
Fanny Malden’s. Some passages could be published 
in a literary magazine without changing a single 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


127 


word, and there’s no moaning of wood doves and 
mysterious whisper of the foliage about it. Only 
one thing I must tell you again, Miss Malden, I 
wish your handwriting would improve as fast as 
your syntax ; it spoils the effect of a clever manu- 
script if you have to stop in the middle of the 
prettiest passage and puzzle-guess at the meaning of 
some mysterious word. Your a’s and o’s look just 
alike, and here, where you want to tell us about that 
old cave that used to be inhabited by a hag, you put 
in a hog, instead of the old lady. And don’t forget 
to make your h’s a little plainer — taller, especially ; 
they just look like n’s; you will find a blue mark 
on one line that would have been the best of that 
page, where you wanted to describe the merry shouts 
of the youngsters, but what you did do was to in- 
form us that ‘the air was rent by their merry 
snouts. ’ They must have been enchanted by that 
pig-witch. ’ ’ 

Fanny laughed as heartily as Anemie Bosse, the 
champion titterer of Willdorf College, and she was 
unselfish enough to be really glad that her literary 
effort had not been crowned with unqualified praise ; 
she could not help fearing that it would have cooled 
the friendship of Miss Blue Eyes if the professor 
had let her off without a little banter, Nellie, too. 


128 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


had done her very best that time, and Professor Alt- 
hoff had not even mentioned her essay, though she 
was one of his pets. Was it so absurdly bad that he 
ignored it to spare her feelings? 

“I wish you tell me how you do to get so large 
praise,” said Nellie, when she got her friend 
alone. ‘^Miss Gunther say I write like print, but 
he never notice it. ’ ’ 

“Oh, he doesn’t go by handwriting alone,” said 
Fanny, “or he would chase me out with a broom- 
stick. I’m not a first-class speller either, but then 
I write just as I feel, and the rest of you are trying 
to ape an old governess with a dictionary and a set 
of false teeth — that’s why.” 

But Nellie proved that same week that she could 
take a hand in a game of Tomboy herself. 

On Saturday evening a light shower had chased 
the girls to their rooms a little sooner than usual, 
and Nellie was leaning out of the apple-tree window, 
casting covetous glances at the wealth of ripening 
fruit. 

“Don’t you wish you could flying, Fan,” she 
whispered, “fly out and get some good ones, and 
into room again?” 

“The apples, you mean?” said Miss Tomboy. 
“I could get them without flying. I wish they’d 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


129 


give me leave, that’s all. I’d show them how to 
get apples ; we have a bigger tree than that, home, 
and I can climb it as easy as you would go up our 
stairs. ’ ’ 

Nellie pricked up her ears. ‘‘You climb? Oh, 
Fan, isn’t that good! Say” — in a still lower 
whisper — “I’ve got the prettiest scheme as ever 
lived.” 

“What is it?” tittered Fanny — “climb across 
there and help ourselves, you mean? I could do it, 
but some of them might see us, and they would be 
sure to go and tell. ’ ’ 

“Oh, much better as that!” — putting her mouth 
close to her friend’s ear; “this night, when a moon 
rise, then you and I rise, too, and ” 

No Tomboy needed a plainer hint, and in her first 
exultation Fanny waltzed her friend all around the 
room. “And say,” she whispered, drawing her 
down on her bed, “I’m going to put on my old field 
dress and outing shoes. I can do anything, after 
that. Wasn’t it lucky I brought them along, 
now!” 

“And I watch; you never see such good spy,” 
chuckled Blue Eyes; “don’t you wish old night 
would come?” 

Just before bedtime the girls went down once 


130 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


more to tell Miss Eeymar good-night and get their 
week’s merit marks. 

‘‘You’re in good humor to-night, dear,” said 
Miss Gunther, when she met her young protigie in 
the hall; “did you get good news from home? 
You look so merry and enterprising. ’ ’ 

Fanny blushed and was glad mind-reading had 
not yet advanced to the rank of an exact science. 
But Miss Gunther evidently suspected nothing 
wrong, and had merely followed her habit of ad- 
dressing a kind word to all her pets. 

Minutes seemed hours before at last the big 
building composed itself to sleep, and lights went 
out one by one. Only in Miss Gunther’s room 
there was still the glimmer of a lamp ; she had 
made her rounds long ago, but was perhaps still 
reading or writing. 

“Why don’t she go sleep?” whispered Blue 
Eyes, who had been leaning out of the open win- 
dow, at half-minute intervals; “maybe she keep 
night-lamp. ’ ’ 

“Shall I get up?” asked Miss Tomboy. 

“No, no, you wait till I call,” warned Nellie; 
“wait ten minute and maybe all so much better, 
then. ’ ’ 

All at once she started back from the window and 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


131 


put her finger to her lips. ‘‘She nearly caught me 
that time, ” she tittered; “she had her head out 
looking at a moon.” 

A few minutes later they heard Miss Gunther 
close her window, and when Nellie ventured another 
peep the glimmer of the lamp had vanished. 

“Now the great moment it’s come,” said she 
theatrically; “arise, you virgin, and commence so 
great work. ’ ’ 

Fanny slipped out and dressed in two minutes ; 
her old blouse — the one with the torn sleeve — had 
awaited the summons for an hour and a half. 

“Oh, don’t take those old shoe,” whispered Blue 
Eyes; “they make you tramp so they all hear.” 

“Not a bit, ” laughed the Tomboy. “I’m used to 
them, and they’re just right for climbing; they 
don’t let you slip.” 

“Now hand me that basket,” she whispered, and 
Nellie hung it around her neck, to let her keep her 
arms free. 

“Don’t fall now, and mind — ’ ’ But Miss Tomboy 
was already in the apple tree. Light as a squirrel 
she had clambered across the next boughs, and was 
already standing on one of the main branches, lean- 
ing over here and there to explore the foliage in 
search of forbidden fruit. 


132 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


‘^Here, catch!” and two big apples flew through 
the open window and rumbled across the floor. 

‘‘Oh, what you do!” protested Nellie in the loud- 
est whisper she could risk; “they bump so they will 
wake Bridget, the cook ; she sleep right under here. ’ ’ 

“Oh, she’s all right enough,” laughed i:'anny. 
“I can hear her snore like a rip-saw. Want 
another?” 

“No, no, wait, put them in a basket.” 

“All right. Good-by, Nell, I’m going up, like 
Jack on the beanstalk.” 

“Oh, no, come back, I’m getting scared,” begged 
Nellie; “you’re so bold, and some big trouble 
happen. ’ ’ 

“Don’t fret” — and up went the Tomboy, hand 
over hand, looking weirdly and wonderfully in her 
white blouse. 

She soon reached the top branches, fully forty 
feet above ground, but Fanny Malden had graduated 
in the climbing school of the Allenton mountain for- 
ests, and didn’t feel a bit scared. After filling her 
basket she squeezed it into a fork of the next branch 
and tied Nellie’s string around her waist, to turn 
the bosom of the wide blouse into an apple-bag. 
In that way she could carry a peck or two more, 
but she reflected that the increase of bulk might 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


133 


interfere with the freedom of her movements, and 
was just turning to begin her retreat, when she put 
her foot on a branch that swayed like a switch and 
slapped violently across the next window — the room 
where Orla Sassuwitch slept in one bed and the 
twins in the other. 

Melanie had not yet crossed the borders of dream- 
land, and started up with a suppressed shriek. 

“Say, Peggie, Peggie” — she shook her sleeping 
sister — “wake up, did you hear that?” 

“What, what?” rubbing her eyes and looking 
about in a dazed way. 

“There, at the window, ” whispered Melanie, then 
suddenly gave a yell and clutched her sister’s arm. 

“I see it,” she screamed; “oh, Peggie! Orla! 
Orla! A ghost — out in the tree there!” 

Peggie dived under her blankets, but Orla Sassu- 
witch put on her shoes and advanced upon the 
window. 

“Oh, don’t,” screamed Melanie ; “it might grab 
you! Stop! Stop!” 

“Oh, stop your bawling,” said Orla, and opened 
the window sash. She put out her head, then 
leaned over and strained her eyes to ascertain 
the cause of a creaking and rustling sound, 
resembling the swaying of a tree in a fitful 


134 


T AMINO A TOMBOY. 


gale. There wasn’t a breath of air stirring, and the 
cloud veiling the moon drifted as slow as if it had 
gone to sleep. 

“What did you see, kids?’’ asked Orla, looking 
back for a moment, but with one hand still under 
the window sash. 

“I saw it quite plain one time,” cried Melanie; 
“a big white ghost flying by and staring at me with 
red eyes as big as saucers. ’ ’ 

“Is it gone?” asked Peggie, peeping out of her 
hiding-place, but instantly diving under again, 
when that rustling sound came plainer than before. 

Orla opened the window again. “Come here, 
quick!” she cried; “oh, pshaw! you are too late; 
I did see something this time, a long white shape, 
and it seemed to whisk into the room right under 
here — why, that’s Blue Eyes’ and Tomboy’s room 
isn’t it?” 

“Wonder if they are awake? Maybe it will grab 
them, ’ ’ said Peggie, sitting up in her bed. 

Orla made no reply, but looked out of the win- 
dow once more. “It’s all quiet now,” said she, 
“but I know I couldn’t have been mistaken.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, please, ring the bell, ’ ’ said Melanie ; ‘ ‘ there’s 
something wrong, that’s sure!” 

“And you are quite certain you saw it, too?” 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


135 


questioned the skeptical young Kussian — ‘‘a white 
shape, about your size, and with long, thin 
arms?” 

“Yes, that’s it, and I saw the eyes of it, too — just 
like owl eyes. ’ ’ 

“I do wish I had been awake,” said Orla; “but 
maybe we’ll find out. Wait” — ringing the bell 
violently three or four times — “there! That’ll fetch 
somebody. ’ ’ 

Miss Gunther’s voice was heard, and the cook’s 
and steward’s; there was hurrying to and fro, and 
presently a committee of investigation came upstairs 
with candles and lamps. Half a dozen girls had 
run out of their rooms, and Miss Lead, the English 
teacher, joined the procession in a long Scotch plaid 
and with her hair hanging loose over her shoulders. 
Miss Eeymar had dressed in haste, and a little 
scullion clung to her skirts with eyes as big as 
Melanie’s specter. 

Orla heard them come and opened her door. 

“What is wrong here?” asked the principal; 
“did anything happen?” 

“Oh, Miss Keymar, we’re scared half dead,” 
whimpered Melanie. “We saw a ghost — a sure- 
enough ghost, right at our window ! It half killed 
me when I saw it look in. ’ ’ 


136 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“You haven’t been dreaming, have you?” asked 
Miss Key mar; “there are no ghosts, you know.” 

“Oh, but I wasn’t asleep, madam; and we heard 
it, too ; first something knocked at the window, and 
then I saw it as plain as I see you now : a big white 
thing with red eyes ! Oh, my ! oh, my ! ’ ’ hiding her 
face to exclude the horrid vision. 

“Perhaps it was a burglar trying to get in your 
window,” said Miss Keymar. “Did you see it, 
too, Orla?” 

“Yes, ma’am, there’s no doubt of it; I saw it 
and heard it. It looked like something in a white 
sheet climbing down the tree, and the last I saw of 
it, it seemed to jump in Nellie’s window.” 

Miss Keymar was puzzled. Orla’s reputation for 
veracity was well established, but on the other 
hand, it seemed hardly credible that a thief could 
have passed the well-guarded lodge gate, or scaled 
a wall crowned with a fringe of broken glass. 

“How long ago did all that happen?” she asked, 
while the girls were clutching each other, anxious 
for additional revelations. Ghosts ! Burglars ! It 
was the first time Willdorf College had been con- 
vulsed with a sensation of that kind, and Flora 
Hoopole resolved to utilize the episode in her next 
novel. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


137 


I 

^‘How long ago? Why, about a minute before I 
rang the bell,” said Orla; ‘‘perhaps two minutes 
before I heard Miss Gunther call the cook. ’ ’ 

Miss Gunther had vanished. The moment Orla 
mentioned the conclusion of the ghost show she had 
slipped away to take a peep in Nellie’s room. 

But her suspicions seemed unfounded. The win- 
dow was closed, the room seemed in good order, and 
Fanny appeared to be fast asleep. 

Nellie was sitting up, staring with well-feigned 
surprise. 

‘'^Oh, what happened?” she asked, “what made 
the bell ring? Is somebody sick? It scared me 
so!” 

“They say somebody jumped in your window,” 
said the principal, who had followed Miss Gunther. 

Nellie made no reply, but thought swift and hard. 
What should she do ? Tell the truth ? Impossible ! 
It would have sealed her doom, and Fanny’s too. 
Still she shrank from the alternative of a direct false- 
hood, and could only stare in horror — not wholly 
feigned by this time. 

“Poor child, she’s scared out of her wits,” said 
the principal; “never mind — it may have been a 
mistake. Orla and Melanie saw somebody trying 
to break in their room, and when they looked out 


138 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


\ 

it seemed to climb down the tree and into your win- 
dow. They thought it must have been a ghost. ’ ’ 

‘‘A ghost! Oh, how horrible!” cried Nellie; 
‘^oh, please, come in, and don’t go off and leave 
me!” 

‘‘Don’t, dear, you are too sensible to believe such 
things. I suppose those girls were dreaming, or 
saw the wind moving the apple tree. Look here, ’ ’ 
she laughed, “your roommate has stouter nerves! 
She went to sleep again, or maybe all this uproar 
never waked her. ’ ’ 

“Fanny? Oh, she always sleep like that,” said 
Blue Eyes. “I can’t get her up hardly, some morn- 
ings. She ’ ’ 

A sudden thrill of horror made the words die on 
her lips. At the foot of Fanny’s bed the blankets 
were hanging halfwky down, revealing a tip of 
those horrid Allenton outing shoes. Nellie had 
turned white with terror, but her color returned 
with her ready wit. 

“Please, please, come here!” she cried; “I saw 
something like shadow just now! Oh, please, look 
under my bed and see if no ghost sitting there ! ’ ’ 

“Don’t be childish, Nellie,” said the principal; 
but the diversion had answered its purpose. Miss 
Gunther had actually stooped down and taken a 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


139 


peep under both, beds, and before she was done 
Nellie managed to effect another intermezzo. 

“Oh, Miss Lead, how funny you look! I thought 
first robber had come to kill us all I You look like 
Spanish robber in my picture-book!” 

A general laugh followed, but a peep at her naked 
feet made the old lady turn red with shame, and 
the principal frowned. “Why, Nellie! can’t you 
behave? That’s no way to talk to a teacher! Go 
to your bed now. We had better all go now. Miss 
Gunther; if the truth was known all this scare may 
have been about a cat hunting birds in that tree. 
Good-night, children. ’ ’ 

The moment the door closed Nellie slipped out of 
her bed, bolted the lock and then pounced on Tom- 
boy’s bed, hugging the simulator of slumber as if 
she was trying to choke her. “What you give me 
now. Fan,” she chuckled, “your gold watch or ten 
thousand kiss? I saved you life, you bad Tomboy, 
you!” 

“Say! Take care!” whispered Fanny, “they 
might hear you!” — then, with an installment re- 
mittance of her debt — “you’re a good girl, Nell; 
it would have killed me if they had found us 
out.” 

“Then why didn’t you cover up you old shoes. 


140 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


you big baby ? ’ ’ whispered Blue Eyes. ‘ ‘ They were 
sticking out of your blankets; d’you know that?” 

‘‘Were they, now? Oh” — with a low chuckle 
— “was that why you set them ghost-hunting under 
your bed? There — and there, and there — no, hold 
on, I have to kiss you good, this time. Did they 
really think I was asleep?” 

“Miss Key mar did, ’ ’ said Blue Eyes ; “but ’ ’ 

“But what?” 

“Miss Gunther gave me such strange look,” said 
Nellie, “maybe she did see something, but didn’t 
want to. But it’s all right now,” she continued, 
“only next time you try don’t go so high up. ” 

“No, thanks, I wouldn’t try that again for a hun- 
dred dollars,” said Eanny with a shudder; “the 
one thing that saved me was those clouds ; when I 
was about halfway up the moon was shining 
straight in my face, but then came a big black 
cloud, just in time to fool those kids — ghosts!” 

Miss Tomboy indulged in another chuckle. She 
had been in the woods too often to believe in tree 
specters. “Let’s divide them, now,” she whis- 
pered, reaching in her blouse and fishing out for- 
bidden fruit by the dozen. ‘ ‘ Mercy ! if they had 
made me get up and found all that I ’ ’ The mere 
idea gave her a fit of cold shivers, and all things 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


141 


considered, Miss Fanny Malden resolved never to 
climb another tree after dark. 

Early the next morning Miss Eeymar took a stroll 
through the garden and stopped under Melanie’s 
ghost tree. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Mr. Harris, ’ ’ she called to the gardener, 
‘‘come here and look at this. Wouldn’t you say 
somebody must have been on that tree? Look at 
all those leaves and broken branches; and here, 
apples, too; they don’t look ripe enough to have 
fallen without help. ’ ’ 

The old gardener shook his head. “I don’t see 
how the world they could get in, unless they 
brought a ladder along; but you’re right; some- 
body has been fooling with that tree, there’s no 
doubt of that. ’ ’ 

“Then it may have been something more than a 
dream, after all,” thought Miss Eeymar, and felt 
half sorry that they had not adopted Tomboy’s pup 
and utilized him for a watchdog. 

All this while the real culprits had been watching 
her from a second-story window. 

‘ ‘ What fun ! ’ ’ whispered Fanny ; ‘ ‘ old Harris is 
catching it hot. He’s always growling at me and 
doesn’t know I got even. Won’t he have to watch 
a long time before he catches me on that tree again. ’ ’ 


U2 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


CHAPTEE IX. 

The days grew shorter, and the first October 
frosts curtailed the programme of outdoor amuse- 
ments. On Sunday afternoon the picture-books of 
the college library were in great request, and the 
young ladies began to exchange visits. 

“I’m coming up to your room after dinner, ” said 
Flora Hoopole, when she met Fanny on her return 
from church. “I just finished another novel, and I 
can’t help thinking it’s a success.” 

“Oh, isn’t that good,” said Nellie; “I can’t wait 
time till we find out how many got killed again. Is 
there suicides on every pages?” 

“Wait till I come, ” said the poetess; “I don’t 
like to spoil the effect by indiscretions. I don’t be- 
lieve in advance sheets. ’ ’ 

“No, it’s all winding-sheets,” said Blue Eyes; 
“they dies so quick they can’t advance many 
yard. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


143 


But in spite of that banter Flora Hoopole kept 
her word ; and about half an hour after dinner en- 
tered Fanny’s room with a bulky manuscript in 
rose-colored wrapping paper. 

‘‘Get water ready, now,” suggested Nellie, “and 
smelling bottle, if somebody faint. ’ ’ 

“It would make a nervous person faint to listen 
to your blunders, ’ ’ retorted the offended authoress. 
“Keep still, now — if you can.” 

“Yes, behave. Blue Eyes,” said Fanny; “you 
don’t know; it might be a pretty story.” 

“Oh, I know it is; just listen.” 

“Very well, I begin then,” said the visitor. 

‘ ‘ ‘ The Secret of the Moaning Sea. ’ 

“The ocean raged. Wild winds wooed the clouds 
that strained every nerve to elude their pursuit. 
The moon saw it all, and had often to avert her 
chaste face. 

“Suddenly a frail bark darted through the break- 
ers, and a young girl, light as a sylph, leaped 
ashore and secured her boat with a patent beach 
anchor. 

“Then she heaved a sigh, and her forget-me-not 
eyes filled with tears. ‘He loves me,’ she cried, 
‘and ah! how I return his love! But my sister 
Aurora loves him likewise, and I love her as I love 


144 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


my own life. Can I witness the convulsions of her 
agony? Never; even if my own heart should 
break. ’ 

“She sighed again. 

“ ‘The portals of death are open. Shall I enter 
them uninvited? Life should cease when its sun- 
shine has fled ; but I know my tough heart will fail 
to break. ’ ’ ’ 

“Now watch! She will climb rocks and jump to 
rises no more, ’ ’ predicted Nellie. 

“How do you know?” snapped the authoress. 
“You are sure to spoil the best passages. Keep 
quiet now. 

“For the third time she sighed. ‘My heart will 
shrink,’ she said, ‘but I now,’ advancing her num- 
ber five lace shoe and planting it firmly on the 
beach, ‘never shall Aurora ’ ” 

‘ ‘ Say, Nell, guess what news I got, ’ ’ cried Me- 
lanie Swartz, bursting in the room at that critical 
moment. “A fine coach with a lady in sealskin 
came, and you ought to see the little pet of a girl 
she brought along! Talk about fairies! There 
isn’t a painter born that could paint a prettier little 
face! If she was mine I’d kiss the life out of her. 
And I bet you all you want she’s going to stay here. 
When they came in I heard Miss Eeymar say 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


145 


sometliing that makes me sure she is. There, look 
yourself, you can see the coach at the gate. ’ ’ 

Nellie and Tomboy flew to the window, and the 
authoress sadly gathered up her manuscript and left 
the room. 

“Yes, there it stand,” cried Nellie; “come on, 
all of you; let’s us go down and see Melanie’s pet. 
She’s always first to see things, ghosts and fairies.” 

“She won’t come to your room, like that ghost 
did,” laughed Melanie, “so let’s hurry down' and 
get a good look at her.” And downstairs they 
scudded with a speed that enabled them to squeeze 
to the front rank of the bevy of sightseers that had 
begun to gather about the door of the dining hall. 

The strange lady, fairy and all, were in Miss 
Eey mar’s room, but might come out any moment. 
The coach at the gate made it probable that the 
marvel’s mother was not going to stay very long. 

“But maybe it won’t stay, and fly to heaven,” 
said Nellie; “ fairies can fly, and it might be gone 
all at once, like as Melanie’s ghost was.” 

“Hush now. Miss Chatterbox,” said Melanie; 
“look for yourself, here they come now.” 

A richly dressed lady walked toward the house 
door, and Miss Gunther entered the dining hall, 
leading a beautiful little girl of five or six years. 


146 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“Look, Lilly,” said she, “here are your new 
playmates ” 

The little lady stopped and looked silently all 
round. “This is where you eat, isn’t it?” she in- 
quired, without the least sign of embarrassment; 
“when will supper be ready?” 

“Why, do angels eat?” laughed Orla Sassuwitch, 
snatching up the newcomer and kissing her left and 
right. ‘ ‘ Oh, you beauty ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ My ! what big girls, ’ ’ said Lilly, mustering the 
circle of her admirers ; “I want a playmate like me, ’ ’ 
holding up her little hand about four feet above 
ground. 

“Wait, we make that,” laughed Nellie, going 
down on her knees and bringing her head to a level 
with the proposed measure; “now you got a play- 
mate already. ’ ’ 

“No, I saw you, ” said Lilly; “but you are 
pretty, and you, too — ’ ’ turning to Fanny, who was 
standing near her friend, ‘ ‘look — you got curls just 
like mine. ’ ’ Then, after some hesitation, and I see- 
ing no nearer approach to her ideal, “You can play 
with me if you like. ’ ’ 

She took Fanny’s hand and was rewarded by 
another shower of kisses. With her dark-brown 
curls and black eyes she looked like a little Spanish 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


147 


gypsy, but her peculiar accent suggested a Swiss or 
South German origin. She was dressed in white 
silk, with a scarlet tippet. 

“Oh, you darling!” “Isn’t she a pet!” “She’s 
just too sweet!” and similar comments descended 
from all sides, when Miss Keymar entered the room, 
and promptly recognized the necessity of inter- 
ference. 

“Come, sweet,” said she, taking the child’s 
hand. We have to change your dress first, or you 
might catch cold. 

“Please let me stay, ’ ’ begged the little fairy. “I’m 
not a bit cold ; I like those girls. ’ ’ 

‘‘You’ll be back in a minute, but we must dress 
you first. Take her to Eosie’s room. Miss Gun- 
ther ; they just carried her things up. ’ ’ 

“Let Fanny go along?” suggested the pet. 

“All right, you can help dressing her, Fanny.” 

“No, you others stay, ” she whispered ; the “rea- 
son I sent her away was to warn you against a com- 
mon mistake. She’s a very pretty child, but such 
extravagant compliments would soon spoil her so 
nobody could get along with her. You must promise 
me to be kind to her without turning her head with 
flatteries. ’ ’ 

“Where do her folks live?” asked Orla. 


148 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘'In Vienna, I think,” said Miss Eeymar; “her 
father is dead or left her, and her mother is an act- 
ress, who has no time to attend to her education. 

“Lilly’s mother is a very pretty looking,” re- 
marked Blue Eyes. 

“ Why — where did you see her?” asked the prin- 
cipal with a look of surprise. 

“Oh, I only saw her go by.” 

“She had no time to stay any longer,” explained 
Miss Eeymar; “all the leave of absence she could 
get was three days, and she has to go back on the 
six o’clock express this evening.” 

The girls were crowding around the principal, 
who appeared to be in an unusually gracious humor 
to-day, and was probably herself proud of her new 
acquisition. Lilly’s mother had come from a dis- 
tance of several hundred miles and selected Will- 
dorf College in preference to scores of boarding- 
schools nearer home. 

At supper the pet, as they all insisted on calling 
the newcomer, in spite of the principal’s protest, 
showed the sam.e freedom from embarrassment, and 
had evidently been among strangers before. 

“Why, don’t you like that?” asked Miss Gun- 
ther, when the little fairy pushed away a plate of 
rye bread; “it’s healthy.” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


149 


“Yes, that may be,” admitted Lilly, “butl some- 
how never could stand the taste of it. I don’t like 
sauerkraut, either” — by way of preventing similar 
mistakes — “and Limburger cheese — oh, my! It 
just knocks me a foot back but maybe it’s 
healthy, too’ ’ — with a sly twinkle of her black eyes. 

“What do you like?” asked Orla, when the titter- 
ing had subsided. 

“Oh, lots of things” — confidently; “my mother 
had caviare sandwiches in her basket, and I ate 
them all while she was asleep. ’ ’ 

“Then we have to send for caviare, right away?” 

“Oh, you needn’t trouble; I like that, too,” 
pointing at a dish of appledumplings with cold 
milk; “and you just can’t stuff me with buckwheat 
cakes and syrup. ’ ’ 

She ate quite mannerly, too, holding her fork in 
her left hand and a superfluous knife in her right, 
but had no hesitation in helping herself from her 
neighbor’s plate, when the main sources of supply 
happened to be beyond her reach. 

“Poor thing,” said Plora, “perhaps she has 
never been away from home before 1 ’ ’ 

“No, I think they just made a pet of her wherever 
she went,” said Melanie Swartz, with a keener 
appreciation of cause and effect. 


150 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Another month passed, and the approach of 
Christmas suggested all sorts of projects — bought 
presents for friends and neighbors, home-made 
presents for near relatives, and possible journeys 
during the short vacations. 

“Would you like to go and see that Danish family 
in Warburg, Nellie?” asked Miss Gunther one day, 
when the girls had finished their darning and some 
of them still tarried to compare notes on the con- 
tents of their work-baskets; “they wrote a few 
days ago and hinted they would be glad to see you 
when you have nothing better to do. ’ ’ 

“No, I think I stay with Fan,” said Blue Eyes, 
putting her arm around her friend’s shoulder; 
“she has to stay, too, but she take me along when 
she go for good in a year from now. ’ ’ 

“Is that so, Fanny?” 

“Yes, I asked the principal to give me a week 
extra,” pouted Miss Tomboy, “but she won’t do it, 
and it’s not worth while going so far for half a 
week. I just wrote to pa and ma to send me some- 
thing good. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I’m glad to have you stay,” said the young 
teacher; “but I thought Fanny was just dying with 
homesickness. ’ ’ 

“Well, so I was, ” grumbled Tomboy, “but that’s 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


151 


just why I should hate to go back, if I can’t stay 
more than a day or two. It would just break me 
all up again, I know. I wrote that to pa, and my 
mother won’t mind it, if I send her something nice. ’ * 

“What are you going to send?” 

“I thought I’d buy her a fur shawl ; they say this 
is going to be a hard winter. ’ ’ 

“No, no, you ought to send something you made 
yourself,” said Miss Gunther, “no matter if it’s a 
mere trifle ; it shows your good-will better than any- 
thing money can buy. ’ ’ 

Fanny mused. “Would a lily do? I’m painting 
a rose for my father. ’ ’ 

“That would be too near the same plan. Why 
not make her a little sewing-basket with pincushion 
and scissor-loops, like the one Anemie is making 
for her sister?” 

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” said Fanny; 
“but suppose I don’t know how?” 

“Never mind, we all help,” said Blue Eyes. 
“Come on, and I’ll show you a piece of blue velvet 
that would just be the right size for cushion.” 

The two friends went upstairs, arm in arm, and 
Miss Gunther went to her own room to examine her 
scant resources, and plan a few surprises for her 
best pets. 


152 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Christmas Eve came at last, and a pine tree, twelve 
feat high and bushy enough to hide a rookery, was 
draped with a miscellany of contributions, gilt pine 
apples, glass balls, glass pearls, tiny mirrors that 
reflected the glare of the lights, dolls and toy birds, 
ginger cakes, gold -paper stars, and candy enough 
for a country ball. They had even contrived to 
imitate the traces of a snowstorm, by painting the 
lower branches with glue and then sprinkling them 
with table salt. 

Wax candles of a dozen different colors were fas- 
tened with ingenious little double tacks ; but after 
sweeping the room, and surrounding the tree with 
a bed of forest-moss, all the youngsters were ex- 
cluded, and a committee of teachers proceeded to 
arrange the gift tables. 

‘‘Isn’t Santa Claus coming soon?” asked the Pet, 
clinging to Fanny’s neck. 

“Yes, sweet, I heard the blowing of his horns, 
far away, ’ ’ said Tomboy, who had begun to please 
herself in the role of protector-general to the little 
plague; “his deer are galloping all they can, but 
then, you know, it’s a long ways he has to come.” 

The little fairy nodded her head. “How does he 
do if there is no snow?” she asked. 

“That’s bad, he has to wait then,” said Fanny; 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


153 


“but you brought us good luck; didn’t it snow all 
day yesterday !” 

“Yes, I like this place,” said the Pet; “guess 
what I got for Christmas last j^ear?” 

“A big doll, with curls like yours?” 

“No, there was no snow. It was in Vienna; 
guess again. ’ ’ 

“Maybe you got a string of wienerwurst?” 
suggested Melanie, who had squatted down near 
Tomboy’s feet. 

“I pullee you now if you tease me,” laughed the 
Pet, clutching the offender’s ears; “no, you never 
guess ; I got a golden nothing and and a silver- wait- 
awhile ; my ma she was so busy she forgot all about 
me, but she bought me some cakes for New Year. ’ ’ 

“No wonder she likes this place better, ” Melanie 
whispered to her sister; “if she was mine I’d starve 
for a week to buy her something nice, and her 
mother was dressed like a queen. ’ ’ 

Plora Hoopole smiled superior. “Oh, I heard 
what you said; that’s all you know about it. You 
forget that her mother is an actress, an artist; and 
they cannot be judged by ordinary standards. I 
know I don’t feel like attending to commonplace 
affairs myself, when my mind is thrilled with poetic 
inspirations. ’ ’ 


154 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘‘You’d better attend to your shoes, anyhow,” 
remarked Orla sarcastically; “your strings are all 
dangling again, and the bell will ring in a minute. ’ ’ 

Flora sighed. “What a heartless world!” her 
reproachful eyes seemed to say, but experience had 
taught her to avoid games of repartee with Orla 
Sassuwitch. 

All this while Pet and Tomboy had been commun- 
ing in a low whisper. “If Santa Claus forgets you 
again you come up to my room,” said Melanie 
Swartz, who could not forgive Tomboy’s monoply 
of the general favorite. 

“Let me read you a Christmas carol, ” said Flora, 
producing a sheet of tinted paper; “perhaps we 
could sing it in chorus to while time away;” but 
just then the sound of a silver bell adjourned her 
project, and the folding doors flew wide open. 

A rush and uproar followed, and in the scramble 
for precedence Peggie Swartz nearly upset the poet- 
ess, carol and all. 

“Where’s Santa Claus?” inquired Pet, when 
Miss Gunther had picked her up and carried her to 
her gift-table ; “isn’t he good, now — did he bring 
me all this ? Say, look at this doll I ’ ’ she screamed ; 
“it can move its mouth and its eyes! I never 
saw a doll that could talk, but this one is going to 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


155 


learn it, I can tell her that. If she don’t, I — 
Oh my, and this sweet handkerchief with flowers in 
each corner,” she interrupted herself; “that’s just 
like the one Fanny got; did Fanny give me this?” 

“Maybe she did,” said Miss Gunther. 

“Then I’m going to kiss her anyhow, till I can 
find Santa Claus, ’ ’ looking left and right, and mak- 
ing a dash for her terrestrial benefactress; but 
Fanny was very busy with her own gift-table, just 
then, and tried to silence her pet chatterbox with a 
kiss. 

“You beat us all, Fanny,” said Blue Eyes; 
“that’s the prettiest fur tip as ever lived, and look 
at this blue alpaca! Won’t that make you nice 
dress for summer! You will look like fairies in 
dancing lesson. ’ ’ 

Fanny was rummaging the bottom of her box and 
looked disappointed. Had her parents not received 
her last letter, or had it reached them too late? 
After making out a short list of her own needs, she 
had added an urgent request to remember Nellie 
Holden, her roommate and best friend, who was so 
far from home and had no father or mother. 

“Why, Nell,” said Miss Gunther, putting her 
hand on Blue Eyes’ shoulder, “why don’t you take 
a look at your own box?” 


156 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“Mj' box? Oh, you joking, Miss Gunther,” said 
Nellie. “I’m all alone; Santa Claus he got no time 
for going to Denmark and back. ’ ’ 

But Fanny had pricked up her ears ; and Miss 
Gunther answered her look of inquiry with a mys- 
terious smile. “Who knows?” said the young 
teacher; “there are fairies, too, for real good girls, 
and one of them may have remembered you. ’ ’ 

“Come on,” said Fanny; “let’s look around a 
bit, anyhow, before we give it up. ’ ’ 

All the fairy-gifts in sight seemed to have found 
claimants, but Fannj^’s keen eyes wandered ahead, 
and quite at the end of the room she espied an un- 
claimed table, with a box just about the size of her 
own. 

Blue Eyes descried it about the same time, and 
they reached the table with a rush. “Didn’t I tell 
you?” cried Tomboy tritimphantly. “ ‘Miss Nellie 
Gray, Willdorf College, Warburg and Hollenbeck 
Railway;’ do you know a girl of that name?” 

“Who sent to me this? Oh, Fanny!” with a 
gleam of suspicion, “you know, tell me, do!” 

“I’m not sure, ” laughed Tomboy; but the con- 
tents of the box removed all doubt. Another pair 
of winter gloves, a copy of Fanny’s coral necktie, 
yes, and a roll of blue alpaca, and a letter-album. 


TAMING A TOMBOY 


157 


with a picture of a flying carrier pigeon, the very 
image of Fanny’s. And the rubber slip around the 
album and the assortment of letter-paper also held 
a little label with five words in a lady’s hand: 

“To my girl’s best friend.” 

To that compliment there was only one answer, 
and Blue Eyes kissed her best friend all around the 
table till they nearly knocked down her gift box. 
“Your mother is the goodest fairy ever was ; no ! bet- 
ter as that’ ’ — with a gasp for a more adequate word 
— “she’s one angel.” 

“Yes, she’s very good to me,” admitted Tomboy, 
and for the first time with a feeling of sincere grati- 
tude; “I’m going to write her a long letter; this is 
all her doings, I can see that right away. ’ ’ 

Nellie made no reply, but her pretty face became 
radiant with joy, as she detached the little label and 
hid it in her bosom. 

But the gift surprises were not over yet. Close 
to the Christmas tree stood a large wash-basket full 
of sealed packages ; the mutual banter presents from 
girl to girl. They were opened now, and explo- 
sions of laughter followed in quick succession. 

Flora Hoopole was still pouting because her 
father had sent her Irving’s “Columbus,” instead 
of Keats’ “Endymion,” when somebody tossed her 


158 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


a paper bag, inclosing several smaller wrappers, and 
as a nucleus a long woolen stocking, blue as the sky 
in June. 

‘‘A stocking?” The poetess looked puzzled. 
‘‘What can that mean?” 

“Don’t you see it’s blue. Miss Blue Stocking?” 
laughed Orla; “that’s the best joke so far.” 

“Oh, it’s yourself sent that?” 

“I wish it was,” said Orla, when Anemie Bosse 
burst out tittering in a way that betrayed her 
complicity. 

Flora shook her finger at the culprit, but there 
came another package: “Miss Flora Hoopole, 
Poet Laureate. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That ought to be ‘ laureata, ’ and certainly 
‘ poetess,’ said the addressee. “ I don’t feel like 
opening this at all;” but a clamor of spectators 
obliged her to proceed, and out fell a broken plaster 
of paris heart. 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Nellie,” 
she cried, promptly identifying the offender; “you 
had better look at your own bundles!” 

“Oh, that’s what I am doing all ’long,” laughed 
Blue Eyes, who had already opened half a dozen 
prize-packages with candy and harmless allusions to 
her little foibles, when one of the rummagers 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


159 


handed her another consignment, sq.nare and too 
heavy for a remittance of sweetmeats. A book? 
yes, a grammar with a flyleaf inscription : 

“ Study this book by night and day, 

You poor, prosaic soul; 

To poetry’s celestial ray 
You will always be blind as a mole. ” 

“Blind? how can I help it?” laughed Blue Eyes ; 
“it’s all your fault. Flora. I have to cry so much 
about people that all fall down dead in your novels 
I cannot hardly see out of my eyes. ’ ’ 

“There!” laughed Orla, “you had better leave 
Blue Eyes alone after this; she’s not half as blind 
as you thought, is she?” 

Melanie Swartz was ogling a little looking-glass, 
and trying to hide it, package and all, when Peggie 
pulled it out and held it up before her face: “You 
know that picture, sis, don’t you? You look at it 
so often that they gave you a chance to carry it in 
your pocket, now. ’ ’ 

“Oh, there’s room for it; I don’t have to pocket 
so many snubs. Miss Chatterbox, ’ ’ retorted the self- 
admirer; “you didn’t open your own mail yet, did 
you?” 

“Yes, I did,” said Peggie; “oh, hold on, you are 


ICO 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


right, here’s one little keepsake; it got so covered 
with paper I did not notice it. It’s the size of 
yours” — handling the memento hesitatingly; ‘‘see, 
only heavier.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, find out and be done, ’ ’ said Melanie, tearing 
off the cover; “woe is you. Peg — it’s a padlock! 
That just fits your little tattle-trap. ’ ’ 

“Who owns this big thing?” asked Blue Eyes, 
turning over a three feet by two box; “oh. Pan! 
come here, it’s yours; wonder who sent that?” 

“Why, what sort of a joke do you call that?” 
said Miss Tomboy, searching the box and pulling 
out handful after handful of hay; “do they suppose 
I used to be stall-fed in Allenton?” 

She was too happy to-day to lose her temper, and 
had to laugh at her own conceit, when her explora- 
tions were at last rewarded by the discovery of a 
more substantial gift — a wooden dog, with white 
paws and a necktie ticket: “Sweet pup.” 

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Fanny, joining in the 
general laugh. “I wish it was alive, that’s all. 
“Whose is this? Why, that’s mine, too; they’re all 
good to me to-day, ’ ’ laughed Fanny, picking up a 
covered little basket with her address, but took the 
precaution to peep, before she opened it. 

Apples and apple tree leaves 1 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


161 


‘‘Oh, Nellie, how could you?” she whispered re- 
proachfully. 

“Never mind,” Blue Eyes whispered back; 
“hide it before they see it. They’re all after some 
else, now.” 

A group of sightseers had formed around Anemie 
Bosse, who was opening a box rivaling the size of 
Fanny’s dog-kennel, and pulled out a wire cage 
with a live laughing dove. 

“Much obliged, whoever sent that,” said the re- 
cipient, looking all round; “that’s the prettiest 
thing out to-day; isn’t it sweet! Oh, Miss Key- 
mar, do — let me keep it?” 

“All right,” said the principal, smiling; “you 
can take it up to your room ; but be sure and never 
forget to feed it. You two can have laughing- 
matches, now.” 

There was just one box left. “Here, that’s 
yours, Orla, ’ ’ said Melanie ; “ I thought they 
wouldn’t forget you altogether.” 

It was a very small package, but the first item of 
its contents set off another explosion of merriment : 
a sheet of paper covered with fearful and wonderful 
hieroglyphics, a burlesque of the Russian letters 
that often arrived to Miss Sassuwitch’s address, but 
proved manuscripts with seven seals to all her school- 


162 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


mates. Number two seemed of less evident signifi- 
cance: a small package of cigarettes, not three 
ounces in weight ; but they made Orla blush in a 
way that attracted the attention of the prin- 
cipal. 

“Let’s see that — what! That’s just a joke, of 
course; but it’s out of place; they are teasing the 
wrong girl.” Then in an undertone: “I hope I’m 
right, Orla ; I rely on you that I can be quite sure 
of that. ’ ’ 

Orla’s blushes came and went, but she didn’t risk 
a reply. 

“What pitiful pedantry,” thought the young 
Russian; “my little cousin Duchinkski wasn’t in 
her teens yet when she began; but then they are 
not more than half-civilized in this country. ’ ’ 

Her black eye roamed about in search of clews ; 
but she could not even form a suspicion. They 
were all rather afraid of Orla Sassuwitch. 

Lilly alone had been spared ; but her little apron 
could not hold half the sweetmeats that were forced 
upon her acceptance. Hers was really the happiest 
face in the gift room that night. “Say, ma’am, do 
you know what?” ^aid she, when Miss Eeymar 
patted her cheek; “if mother comes to take me 
away I won’t go.” 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


168 


CHAPTEE X. 

Januaky would have been the dreariest month in 
the year, but by a wise arrangement of the college 
programme the dancing lessons commenced about a 
week after New Year. 

They came off on Saturday, and were what the 
girls called ‘‘hen parties,” for three weeks in the 
four, but on the last Saturday of every month Mon- 
sieur Jordan, the dancing master, had permission 
to invite a number of boys from Professor Eitter’s 
academy on Farway Avenue. On the Fridays pre- 
ceding these gala days every leisure moment was 
devoted to preparations; the girls talked dress, 
changed dress and trimmed dress even in the short 
intervals of the morning lessons, and in Melanie’s 
room stealthy steps could be heard till long after 
midnight. 

“They are still at it,” laughed Tomboy, when 
Nellie called her attention to the breach of rules. 
“I wonder where they get all the candles and what 
they pay Harris to keep his mouth shut. He can’t 
help seeing the light in their windows, ’ ’ 


164 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


“Perhaps they screen them,” conjectured Blue 
Eyes ; ' ‘ Melanie is very sly, and Orla she know 
great tricks. ’ ’ 

But Nellie, too, made preparations in her own 
way. She didn’t have many dresses to trim, poor 
thing, but she mended her embroidered dancing- 
shoes and actually studied the chapter of phrases in 
Flora’s gift book, and had memorized ready-made 
replies for all possible different questions, both in 
English and German. But on the first gala day her 
overconfidence made her trip after all. Her part- 
ner, the son of a wealthy Walburg merchant, 
informed her that his father intended to take him 
along on a trip to Norway next summer. 

“Oh, isn’t that good!” exclaimed poor Nell, with 
her blue eyes beaming; “then you will go to blazes, 
where they speaks Danish!” 

She had several places in her mind where Danish 
is spoken almost as generally as in Copenhagen — 
Norway having for centuries been a province of 
Denmark. Another youth preferred to talk Ger- 
man, and not much of that, till Nellie asked him if 
he was going to settle in Willdorf after finishing 
his studies. 

“No, my father wants me to go to Geneva, where 
my uncle is, ’ ’ said the undergraduate. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


165 


“ Werden sie da verstaendig seinT^ asked Nellie 
— “Are you going to be reasonable there?” 

She meant ‘ ‘ hestaendig, ” e. , “ permanently. ’ ’ 

But she danced so well that she had always a 
choice of partners, and Fanny, too, was in great re- 
quest on account of her wealth of golden hair and 
childlike frankness. Gala days did not make her 
burn midnight candles, but they amused her greatly, 
and she could not help laughing if she had to die 
for it when one day Peggie Swartz slipped on her 
beeswaxed shoes and pulled her partner head over 
heels on the floor. 

Peggie never forgave her, and one day her part- 
ner, who had attended gala days the preceding win- 
ter, asked her the name of that new girl — the 
blonde, with long curls, and a blue alpaca dress. 
Peggie’s chance had come. 

“That thing? Oh, that’s Fanny Malden,” she 
tittered; “we always call her our Tomboy. Yes — • 
that’s so, you couldn’t have seen her last winter, 
she came here in July ; her father brought her here 
in a country coach, and what do you think? She 
had brought her dog along and got fighting mad be- 
cause Miss Key mar would not let her keep it. And 
awkward she was ! It had to be seen to believe it. 
At dinner she put her two elbows on the table and 


166 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


went in feeding like a bear, and one day she 
dropped a stack of plates, when they wanted her to 
help in the kitchen. And when they tried to teach 
her darning her socks ” 

‘‘Oh, Peggie,” said Orla, stopping the stream of 
revelations, “step this way a minute, dear; one of 
your pins got loose ; I want to fasten your dress for 
you.” 

But the moment she had Miss Chatterbox alone 
her voice changed to a fierce whisper : “What the 
mischief are you trying to do, giving away poor 
Tomboy like that? You ought to be taken out and 
spanked. Don’t you know it’s against all rules to 
talk out of school? That’s our own rule, too,” she 
added, “and you’ll find it out if you don’t know 
it.” 

Peggie got so scared that she didn’t say another 
word that afternoon, and slipped away as soon as 
the last waltz was finished, to change her dress and 
vanish before Orla got after her again. 

Etiquette required the boys to retire at the last 
squeak of the fiddle, Miss Keymar being anxious 
to obviate the chance for flirtations, but whisper 
chat was unavoidable, and almost every Sunday the 
youngsters contrived to meet the objects of their 
veneration on their promenades — no matter how 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


167 

often the march-routes were changed. It greatly 
puzzled the principal where they could have ob- 
tained their information, and she tried the plan of 
countermanding the Sunday" afternoon’s programme 
at the very lodge gate, but the result remained the 
same, and in some narrow glen of Pine Eidge or 
lane of Beckor’s Cherry Gardens the sophomore 
caps were sure to emerge ; but then Miss Eeymar 
did not know that they had their scouts in the 
suburbs, watching every point of approach, and that 
superior topographical knowledge enabled them to 
guess the plan of campaign from first indications, 
and reach a convenient ambuscade by roundabout 
trails of their own. 

“If she ask me I could tell her ways to stop it,” 
said Nellie to her roommate one day ; “she ought to 
give Flora leave to drop one of her novels ; if they 
find it and read, it scare them so they never come 
back again.” 

Every year, at the close of the season, there was 
a “ball,” though that word might be a little mis- 
leading. A dansant,'' the French would have 
called it — “a dance and a cup of tea.” The boys 
came a little sooner and stayed an hour longer ; there 
was a second fiddle; holly and boxwood garlands 
and a table with tea and cold lunch ; that was all. 


168 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Still, next to Christmas, it was about the most im- 
portant holiday in Willdorf College, and Miss Eey- 
mar would have provoked a mutiny if she had not 
permitted the girls to wear their best Sunday dresses. 

On the evening before the momentous event Nellie 
and Tomboy were accordingly deep in dry goods, 
when Pet Lilly danced into their room and at once 
installed herself on the lap of her favorite. 

‘‘I can go along to-morrow, ” she reported, put- 
ting her arm around Fanny’s neck; “Miss Eeymar 
said so, and I’m going to wear my white satin dress 
and a red scarf. ’ ’ 

“Why, Pet, how hot you feel! ” said Fanny, pat- 
ting the little visitor’s face. “Are you sick, or have 
you been running in the garden?” 

“My head aches,” said the little thing, putting 
her hand to her temple, “but to-morrow I’m going 
to dance” — with a swift return to her original 
theme; “Miss Eeymar said so, and I want you to 
come, too. ’ ’ 

“Oh, to be sure, we all go,” said Fanny; “but 
you must be good now and not go and get sick. ’ ’ 

But she did both. “Then I’m going to run to 
bed right away, ’ ’ said she, after a pause of reflec- 
tion; “to-morrow I want to be well again and put 
on my white dress. ’ ’ 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


169 


“Where is Pet, I wonder?” the girls asked one 
another at breakfast the next morning. 

Miss Gunther, too, was missing. 

All that morning, while the building was buzzing 
with preparations, she was sitting at Lilly’s sick 
bed, fanning the little sleeper’s face, and every now 
and then cooling her brow with a wet sponge. 

She had been taken with a hot fever that night, 
and Mrs. Scoffield, the stewardess, who had volun- 
teered to nurse her, had not improved matters by 
keeping up a bake-oven fire till morning. In spite 
of her protests, the principal had opened a window 
at daybreak, and the champion of sweat-box cures 
went off grumbling. 

“I wish this ball could be postponed,” said Miss 
Gunther after dinner; “she’s getting worse, lean 
see that too plainly. Hadn’t we better send for 
another doctor?” 

“I sent for Dr. Harman an hour ago,” said the 
principal, looking at her watch; “the messenger 
said he would be here directly after dinner. But 
it’s too late now to countermand the ball, and be- 
sides, we can shift her bed to your own room, where 
there is not any risk of noise. I hope this isn’t 
anything worse than a catarrh fever ; she may have 
caught it by running in the kitchen so often and out 


170 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


again in the garden. That’s the worst about pretty 
children; they overpet them till you can’t make 
them behave. ’ ’ 

They waited another half-hour and then carried 
the little patient to Miss Gunther’s room, where the 
noise of the ball would be deadened by half a dozen 
intervening walls. 

‘‘Here come the musicians,” whispered Miss 
Gunther, who had stepped to the window when the 
principal had brought her a few refreshments. 

“Yes, I told the steward to take them a lunch,” 
said Miss Eeymar. 

“Say, it’s time for me to dress, now,” said Lilly, 
suddenly sitting up in bed; “better hurry and get 
me my things ; Fanny is waiting. ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes, dear,” said Miss Eeymar, “we’ll tell 
you in time’ ’ — hearing a prelude of the piano, “they 
are just trying their music and putting things in 
order; when all is ready we’ll tell you; but you 
must try and sleep now, so your head stops 
aching. ’ ’ 

“What makes it ache so?” asked Pet; “I’ve been 
good and slept all I could, but it won’t stop; it 
won’t stop.” 

She had just fallen asleep again when Dr. Har- 
man at last arrived. He sat down at the bedside 


TAMING A 2VMB0r, 


in 


and took the sleeper’s hand, while Miss Gunther 
watched his face in anxious expectation. 

“ She has a fever, ” said he at last; ‘‘could you 
screen her bed and open a window for a few 
minutes?” 

He then made out a prescription and promised to 
call again before night. “Don’t let the thermome- 
ter get above seventy, ’ ’ said he before he left. 

“There!” said Miss Reymar, as soon as he was 
gone, “didn’t I tell you? Not above seventy 1 It 
was about a hundred and seventy when I opened 
the door this morning. And that woman pretends 
to have been a hospital nurse ! I pity her patients 1 
No wonder every hospital has a cemetery, if they 
all do like that. ’ ’ 

Miss Eeymar soon after was summoned to the 
ballroom, and the arrival of the dancing-master was 
the cue of the young academicians who had been 
waiting at the lodge gate. 

Miss Gunther had taken up a book, when the 
music struck up, and almost in the same instant 
Lilly raised herself on her elbow and looked at the 
door. 

“Hurry up, Fanny,” she cried, “we’re all 
ready; I want you to come and help me dress!” 

“She’s coming, sweet,” said Miss Gunther; 


172 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘‘listen! I hear her walk around, getting your 
things ready. ’ ’ 

Lilly made no reply, but half-turned her head, 
listening. 

“She didn’t hear me, did she? Why doesn’t she 
come? Say, I’m going to find her if she doesn’t 
come soon” — trying to get up and leave the room. 

Miss Gunther rang the bell, and after a consider- 
able pause the cook put in an appearance, the two 
other servants being engaged at the other end of the 
building. “Call Fanny, quick,” said Miss Gun- 
ther, “and then run and call Dr. Harman. Tell 
him the child is much worse — just look at her eyes ; 
her mind is wandering. But say, call Fanny in a 
way not to scare the rest if you can ; they might all 
come rushing in here. ’ ’ 

“All right,” said the cook, and made up her mind 
not to enter the ballroom at all. People came and 
went continually, and she could bide her time. 

Bridget stood and waited nearly ten minutes, be- 
fore at least the door opened and the twins came 
out, arm in arm, chatting and laughing. 

“Is Miss Fanny in there?” asked the cook. 

“Why, of course — they all are; we just peeped 
out because it’s so terribly warm. Why, who 
wants her?” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


173 


‘‘Please call her out here a minute/’ said the 
cook. “Miss Gunther sent me in a hurry, but I’m 
not dressed and didn’t like to go in.’’ 

“I’ll fetch her,” said Melanie, but had not yet 
delivered her errand, when Monsieur Jordan ordered 
his pupils to their places, and again Bridget waited 
at least ten minutes, before at last Fanny Malden 
came out, flushed with merriment and waltzes. 
Bridget lowered her voice to a whisper, seeing 
faces peeping through a hall window, and Fanny at 
once darted off to Miss Gunther’s room. 

“Oh, child! I do wish you had come a little 
sooner, ” said the young teacher ; “this poor little 
thing has been calling for you till she fretted her- 
self in a raving fever. Oh, Heaven ! there 1 look at 
her — she’s going in convulsions now!” 

Lilly had fallen back on the pillow, and lay twist- 
ing from* side to side, frothing and clutching her 
hands. 

Fanny burst out sobbing. 

“If you had only come a little sooner,” resumed 
Miss Gunther; “I sent Bridget nearly half an hour 
ago; didn’t she tell you?” 

“Why, Miss Gunther!” said Fanny, surprised; 
“I came running the momeat she told me the first 
word. ’ ’ 


174 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“Dear me! wherever can she have been so long? 
Yon might as well send a tortoise! Say, Fanny, 
dear, promise me to stay here till I get back; I’m 
going after the doctor myself.” 

Lilly’s hands began to twitch again, but presently 
her rolling eyes became fixed and she seemed to 
listen. “There goes the music again. Fan,” said 
she, clutching at her friend’s sleeve. “Did you bring 
my dress? Miss Key mar said I could go. Why 
can’t we go, Fanny?” 

“We will, we will, sweet,” sobbed Fanny, “only 
keep still ; we have to wait till Miss Gunther comes 
back, and then we fetch your white dress.” 

“No, better hurry, get it now, before it is too 
late! I’ve to go soon; I’ve to go far away, and you 
can’t find me no more then.” 

Fanny heard a sobbing sound and felt somebody’s 
head on her shoulder. Melanie Swartz had entered 
the room as noiselessly as a spirit. 

“Oh, Fanny! what happened? Is she dying? I 
saw Miss Gunther run down the street without her 
hat on, and I knew right away what they called you 
for. Are you nursing her?” 

‘ ‘ They want me to help, ’ ’ sobbed Fanny. 

“They’ll run me out if they come,” said Melanie, 
“but you know what I do for you, Fanny? You 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


175 


can manage Pet better than anybody, and if yon 
won’t let her die I’ll give yon all I got; I’ve twelve 
dollars in my drawer, and yon shall have them all. ’ ’ 

‘‘I’d give all I have, too,” sobbed Fanny, “bnt 
I don’t know what to do. I wish that doctor wonld 
hurry up.” 

‘ ‘ There comes Miss Gunther now, ’ ’ said Melanie. 

Bnt it was Mrs. Scoffield, the old stewardess. 

“How’s the child getting on?” she inquired; 
then, advancing upon the bed: “Yon had better 
keep her covered up ;she’s got a badcold, poorthing. ’ ’ 

At the first touch of her hand Lilly drew back 
and buried her face in the pillows. “Do nothing to 
me, please ! Do nothing to me ! ’ ’ she repeated again 
and again, with her plaintive voice gradually rising 
to screams. 

Melanie gave the intruder a venomous look. 

“What’s you two doing in here?” asked the 
stewardess. 

“That’s none of your business,” snapped the 
Swartz girl. 

“You’d better go, or you’ll get me scolded; Miss 
Gunther told me not to let anybody in here, ’ ’ said 
Fanny, foreseeing a quarrel and venturing upon a 
bold interpretation of her instructions. 

‘‘Oh — is that it? you want to show you have 


176 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


sometliiiig to say, don’t you,” sneered the old hag, 
and flounced out of the room. 

“Take her away, ” whimpered Lilly; “don’t let 
her grab me ! ’ ’ 

“She’s gone; she can’t hurt our little angel now.” 

“Say, Fanny, when I’m an angel I can fly,” said 
Lilly; “then I come to you; then they can’t keep 
us locked up all day ; we’ll be playing on the moun- 
tains then, where you and me picked strawberries 
last summer. And you musn’t forget me; when 
they have buried me you must come where they 
made me a little grave, so poor Pet isn’t all alone” 

• — stretching out her arms to her two friends. 

Melanie Swartz burst out crying. “I can’t stand 
this no longer, ’ ’ said she, and staggered toward the 
door. 

She was not gone flve minutes when Miss Gunther 
returned with the doctor, and found Fanny kneeling 
on the floor, with her face on the bed and crying as 
if her heart would break. 

Lilly was in convulsions again. 

“You can go now, dear,” said Miss Gunther 
kindly; “please tell one of the girls to call Miss 
Eeymar. ’ ’ 

“Have you her parents’ address?” inquired Dr. 
Harman, when the principal entered the sick room. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


177 


‘ ‘ Yes, her mother’s ; her father is dead, I believe, ’ ’ 
said Miss Eeymar; “why? do you suppose we had 
better let her. know ” 

“Yes, telegraph at once,” said the doctor; “that 
child has a brain fever, and we must take no chances 
if her mother should wish to see her once more. ’ ’ 

That set off Miss Gunther, too, but the principal 
preserved her self-control, and meeting Professor 
Althoff in the hall, at once explained the situation 
and requested him to send a message to Vienna, 
care of the Hof Theater, and another to Mrs. Wel- 
ser’s private address in a south Vienna suburb. 

The reply came by wire the next morning : 

* ‘ Impossible to start before Monday. Shall reach 
Willdorf Tuesday night.” 

But early on Sunday morning Miss Gunther came 
up to Nellie’s room. She beckoned her and Fanny 
to the window, and a moment after Peggie Swartz, 
who had been eavesdropping for her sister, heard 
the two girls sob aloud. “Don’t tell anybody, 
dear,” said the young teacher when she left the 
room; “they will find it out too soon, anyhow.” 

They had been conversing in a whisper, but half 
an hour later all Willdorf College knew that Lilly 
Welser had died at two o’clock that morning. 


m 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


CHAPTEE XI. 

Miss Keymak Iiad sent a second telegram and the 
reply came by mail : a letter written in a paroxysm 
of grief, but ending with a request to excuse the 
personal attendance of the writer. She inclosed 
a check and ordered a monument with a kneeling 
angel and a gilt inscription: “Pray for me, sweet 
child.” 

Lilly was buried on Tuesday afternoon. There 
was no florist in Willdorf, but nearly all the chil- 
dren of the little town had been searching the hills 
for spring flowers, and the coffin was covered with 
snowdrops and violets. 

“Isn’t it strange none of her folks would come?” 
said Fanny to her friend when they returned to 
their room. 

“Yes; your mother would have come from the 
world end,” said Nellie; “I know she would.” 

Fanny nodded her head. “I know it, too,” said 
she, “and she isn’t even my right mother, and I 
didn’t always treat her right, Nell.” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


179 


‘‘Oh, she know you was just a baby Tomboy,” 
said Nellie; “but you got sense now, and you 
ought to write her a letter. Then you see if she 
don’t answer right away; she’s so good.” 

“Yes, I’ll do that,” said Fanny, after some re- 
flection; “I’ll write to pa and her both, and tell 
them I had time on account of the half-holiday, 
and let them know what happened. ’ ’ 

“Do it right now,” said Nellie. “Miss Gunther 
told me she excuse us from coming down this 
evening. ’ ’ 

Fanny had just written the first line, when Flora 
Hoopole came in with a formidable manuscript. 

“It kept me awake all night to think of an ap- 
propriate title,” said she, by way of introducing 
her poem, “but I’m glad to say I succeeded: 
‘Stanzas on the Death of a Storm-blighted Eose- 
bud;’ in four different meters; you can then tell 
me which you think you like best. 

‘ ‘ ‘Night winds weeping tears, not dewdrops, ’ ’ ’ she 
began, but didn’t get a chance to add another word. 

“Oh, hush!” cried Nellie, stopping her ears; “I 
don’t feel listening to your ghastly nonsense now; 
go away, we got no time. ’ ’ 

“That’s so. Flora,” said Fanny; “we’re very 
busy, just now, so you will please excuse us.” 


180 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“Oh, certainly,” sneered the poetess, “I’m so 
glad to find it out in time when people have sausage 
bags instead of souls’ ’ — returning her MSS. to a map 
with the inscription: “Dirges and Elegies.” 

“You don’t deserve to hear first-class poetry, and 
I’ll be glad if Easter comes and I can leave this 
abode of prose. ’ ’ 

“Bolt the door before she comes back with a 
novel, ’ ’ said Nellie, whose patience had limits. 

Fanny’s letter was mailed the next morning, but a 
week passed and no reply had yet reached the Will- 
dorf post office. Eanny began to fret, but Nellie 
kept up her hopes. “They got your letter, no 
doubt of that; they just wait to get ready with 
some present before they writes; don’t worry; 
there may be answer this evening. ’ ’ 

And that prediction was actually fulfilled ; in the 
afternoon mail came a letter for Fanny Malden. 

“Come to my room, Fanny,” said the principal 
after supper, “there’s news for you from Allenton. ” 

“At last,” thought Fanny; “wonder what she 
wants?” 

“There’s a letter from your father, dear,” said 
the principal, after closing her door; “he asks me 
to warn you that there’s great good news for you. 
Now tell me: can you guess what it is?” 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


181 


Fanny shook her head. She was too excited to 
speak. 

“A new pet came to Allenton; you have got a 
little brother, Fanny.” 

“Oh, my heavens!” shrieked Fanny, and before 
the principal could read the first word of the 
squire’s letter Miss Tomboy had her around the 
neck and kissed her violently again and again. 

Then her arms dropped and she stepped back, 
blushing and wondering at her indiscretion. 
^‘Please excuse me. Miss Key mar, ” she stammered, 
but Miss Keymar closed her mouth with another 
kiss. 

‘ ‘ Come here, dear, ’ ’ said she, drawing her to her 
heart; “let me be the first to congratulate you. 
And now you can run and tell Blue Eyes ; here are 
two letters for you. ’ ’ 

Miss Keymar had never talked to her like that 
before, and Fanny felt like hugging her for her own 
sake this time, but after a moment’s hesitation she 
darted out, even forgetting to close the door, and 
rushed up to her own room. 

“Listen to this, Nell,” she cried, waving her 
letters in triumph ; “you’re a good prophet. Blue 
Eyes ; yes, you were right, this was worth waiting 
for ; now listen. ’ ’ 


182 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘‘My dear child,” wrote Mrs. Malden, “about 
the same time when the angels came and took 
one of their little sisters away from Willdorf 
they brought a little brother to Allenton, and on 
receipt of your pretty letter I felt as if Heaven had 
blessed me twice though I always knew my naughty 
Tomboy would find the way to my heart sooner or 
later. And now do not worry about bygones, dear ; 
they are forgiven and forgotten ; rather think of the 
future — the happy time that will bring our dear 
truant back to the playgrounds of her childhood. 
You will be received with open arms and with a 
thousand kisses by 

“Youe Mamma.” 

“Didn’t I tell!” chuckled Nellie. 

“Yes and here’s another: 

‘ ‘ ‘ Deak Pet : It’ s settled now and you must come 
back on the first of September and help us romp 
around and have a good time. You never saw a 
prettier little rogue unless you remember the day 
when you took a peep in the first looking-glass ; his 
brown eyes are just like yours and I can tell by the 
way he clutches my hair that he’s going to be a 
good hand at climbing trees with my Tomboy. 

“I’ll write again in a day or two, and remain 
“Youe Playmate and Loving Fathee.” 


“Oh, dear Nell,” cried Fanny, “what I wouldn’t 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


183 


give if I could see that little darling ! I feel like 
starting right away and never stop running till I get 
him in my arms. Wonder what room they have 
put him in? I just can’t wait till September; I 
know I can’t, and I’ll slip up on them some day 
when they don’t look for me.” 

Easter came, and the girls received copies of the 
semi-annual reports that had been mailed to their 
parents. 

Nellie came to her room crying. ‘ ‘ Look at this, ’ ’ 
said she : “ ‘Progress in languages : middling, ’ and 
I’ve tried so hard to do my best with your old Eng- 
lish and German. ’ ’ 

“Yes, but see: your report is as good as it can 
be in everything but languages,” said Fanny, “so 
that will more than make up for it. ’ ’ 

But Nellie shook her head. “I have to be a 
governess as soon as I know enough to make my 
own living,” she sighed, “and you will find out 
they make me stay behind next vacation and take 
private lessons. 

“Will Professor Althoff stay, too?” asked Fanny. 

Nellie blushed. ‘ ‘ That wouldn’ t be so bad, ’ ’ she 
whispered, “but I am afraid he will be gone some- 
where and old Mrs. Lead will stay because nobody 
invites her.” 


184 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Flora Hoopole felt deeply wronged. ‘ ‘ The idea ! ’ ‘ 
she said, ‘‘giving me a number two in literature after 
my years of literary labors ! Mr. Althoff is hard to 
please, certainly. Won’t he be surprised, though, 
when he reads that dramatic poem?” 

Flora referred to her last literary product : 
“Thekla, the Flower Fairy,” now in the hands of 
Professor Althoff. She had finished it a few days 
ago, and forwarded it in a rose-colored wrapper, 
with the request to revise it and kindly call her at- 
tention to possible defects, as it was to be acted 
next week on the afternoon of the principal’s birth- 
day. That part of the birthday programme was as 
yet Flora’s secret, but she wished the professor to 
infer that the festival committee had urged her to 
undertake a task beyond the ability of her fellow- 
pupils. Even the first verse, she imagined, would 
suffice to establish the competence of the author : 

“ Wondrous odors, gently flowing 
O'er a garden’s verdant lawn, 

Ere the cocks have started crowing. 

Ere the ducks suspect the dawn.” 

There were about five hundred such verses alto- 
gether, and the names of the dramatic persons were 
nearly all as sublime as the rhymes: “Eldreth, 
the mountain elf,” “Linda, the mermaid of the 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


185 


lagoons,” ‘‘Ariel andAstarte, morning air spirits,” 
etc., etc. The poetess had already memorized the 
role of the flower queen, and in her daydreams could 
hear the salvos of applause and see the homage of 
her subordinates — the belated but finally perfect 
triumph of true genius. 

She was just rehearsing the last scene when there 
was a sharp tap at the door, and Peggie’s voice out- 
side, demanding admittance. 

‘ ‘ Oh, that prosaic thing ! In a moment like this ! ’ ’ 
groaned the poetess, and felt greatly tempted to re- 
fuse herself to such callers. 

“Here’s your poem,” cried Peggie; “d’ye want 
it or not?” Flora opened the door. 

“Who the mischief was you talking to?” asked 
Peggie, looking about with a surprise not unmixed 
with suspicion. 

Flora made no reply, but seeing the rose-colored 
package in Peggie’s hands snatched it away with an 
exclamation of dismay. 

“Why! where did you get this?” she demanded 
angrily. 

“ Get it? What’s the matter with you? Didn’t 
you give it to Professor Althoff?” asked Peggie; 
“well, he told me to hand you this, or leave it 


m your room. 


186 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“Why didn’t he send for me? I’m pretty sure 
that’s what he meant to do, and you had to stick in 
your snout with a different plan. Well, you can go, 
now. I’m busy and want to be left alone.” 

But Peggie was in no hurry. She scented a 
secret, and calmly sat down in Flora’s armchair of 
inspiration. “I ain’t going yet,” she announced. 

“You like that chair, do you?” said Flora; “all 
right, you can stay as long as you please, but in 
that case” — approaching the door — “ I’ll have to 
bid you good-by. ’ ’ 

And before the intruder could guess her intention 
she had stepped out and turned the key. 

You had better open that door,” cried Peggie, 
but the poetess was already at the foot of the stairs, 
and seeing the coast clear, slipped out in the garden 
to her place of refuge under the willow tree. 

There she paused and pressed her hand to her 
tumultuous heart. A message from Professor Alt- 
hoff — he had read, he must have read her masterpiece. 
Her hands trembled as she opened the package. 
What! No letter? Not a scrap of a note? Should 
he have recorded his verdict on the title page of the 
manuscript or perhaps suggested a change in the 
cast of characters that rather exceeded the number 
of the available actors? Yes, that was the pro- 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


187 


lessor’s handwriting, a blue pencil note on the first 
page: ‘‘Unmitigated nonsense — all except one 

strikingly satisfactory paragraph — see page 96. ’ ’ 
“Ninety-six? That must be in the last scene — 
Oh, I see, he means the ‘Swan Song of the White 
Lily,’ ” thought Flora, turning the leaves with 
nervous fingers — ^but, oh, heavens ! page 96 was the 
last, and the professor’s blue pencil had traced a 
ring around two words : ‘ ‘ The end. ’ ’ 

The poetess clinched her fist, but in spite of her 
struggles her overwrought feelings found relief in a 
flood of tears. 

“He can’t have read it,” she moaned, “he can’t 
possibly have read that heavenly intermezzo where 
the moon rises and two spirits of light sweep down 

“ ‘ — descended from the groves 
Perch on the lawn roller like snow-white doves.' 

He has just glanced at a quotation from inferior 
poets,” thought Flora, “and ascribed their short- 
comings to my own negligence ! But if he will not 
see he shall hear. I’ll read him those inspired 
passages and demand justice or death” — waving 
her hands theatrically. She was about to rise and 
rush into the slanderer’s presence, when she realized 
the possibility of fainting at the critical moment. 


188 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘"No!” she hissed, ‘‘he shall never see my weak- 
ness ! Never ! But I can write, and I will write. ’ ’ 
She drew out her notebook and had already 
covered a page with words that threatened to set the 
paper afire, when she heard a titter behind her 
shoulder, and had just time to close her tablet, 
when Peggie Swartz hopped into her leafy sanctum. 

“You thought I couldn’t get out, did you?” she 
laughed; “but here I am and — Halloo, I got you!” 
she cried, pouncing upon the manuscript and darting 
off with her prize. “Now I’ll find out your secrets 
in spite of you ! ’ ’ she laughed, stopping at a safe 
distance and holding up the telltale package. 

“Say, give me that,” cried the poetess, rising; 
“give me that, please? You can have my Christ- 
mas present, Irving’s ‘Columbus,’ if you do!” 

“Too late, too late!” laughed Peggie, dancing 
toward the house, and the bereft poetess felt her 
heart stand still with horror at the thought of the 
consequences if Nellie or Orla should get their eyes 
on those blue pencil marks. They would tease the 
life out of her. Peggie was at it even now, turn- 
ing the leaves and spying here and there, and Plora 
suddenly made a rush in the desperate hope of run- 
ning down the robber in time. But Peggie saw her 
too soon, and hastily closing the drama, fled shriek- 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


189 


ing up the terrace, but at the very edge of the door 
ran into the arms of Professor Althoff. 

The rose-colored wrapper would have told its own 
tale, even if Peggie had looked less scared. 

“What are you doing?” said he reproachfully; 
“didn’t I ask you to take this to Flora’s room?” 

“I did,” stammered Peggie, “but she got mad at 
me and locked me up, so I — I just snatched her 
book to scare her a little and get even. ’ ’ 

“Just a little, eh? Look there what you did; 
she’s crying.” 

‘ ‘ She thought I was going to read her secrets, ’ ’ 
tittered Peggie; “but you know, I was just joking” 
— confidentially — “ you know it would kill a body to 
read a page of that rot. ’ ’ 

Professor Althoff smiled. “Never mind, now, 
let me have that ; ’ ’ taking the manuscript out of her 
hands. 

“Here’s your fairy book. Miss Hoopole, ” said he 
with a suppressed smile, and in the paroxysm of her 
gratitude the poetess kissed his hand. 

“I thank you, sir,” she lisped, and stalked back 
to her sanctuary under the weeping willow. 

“Poor, crazy kid,” muttered the professor, “and 
the worst of it is she’s incurable; she’s at it again; 
more moonshine smiling on patent lawn-rollers. ” 


190 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


There were songs and recitations on Miss Eey- 
mar’s birthday, and at four o’clock the guests were 
turned loose in the garden, where Mr. Harris had 
erected a large platform for a free lunch table ; but 
in the midst of the merrymaking Nellie took her 
friend’s arm and walked slowly to the opposite end 
of the orchard, where a rustic arbor with a bench or 
two afforded a view of the blue highlands. 

feel like crying. Fan,” said she sadly; ‘‘this 
is the last fun you and I will have together ; in little 
while your pa come and take you away, and then 
I ” 

The tears did start to her eyes, and she put her 
head on Fanny’s shoulder. 

‘‘Don’t cry. Blue Eyes,” coaxed Fanny; “it’s 
nearly five weeks yet, and you know I’ll never for- 
get you.” 

“Only four week and four days,” sobbed Nellie, 
“and you can’t help forget me if you go to that 
pretty place where your pets lives and your little 
brother ’ ’ 

“Why, Nell, don’t talk like that” — with a kiss 
or two. “Allenton isn’t on the other side of the 
sea, and you must come and see us every vacation. 
You know my father likes you, too.” 

“Yes, but I can’t,” sighed Nellie; “they won’t 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


191 


let me, and if I’m done I have to go and teach howl- 
babies ; oh, my ! maybe in England or Enssia. ’ ’ 

Fanny had to langh in her own despite. 

‘‘We won’t forget you one day. Blue Eyes,” she 
promised, “and as soon as they are done with you 
here you let us know, and we get your room ready. 
Then they can write to Allenton if they want you, 
and don’t you go till they offer you a good place.” 

Nellie kissed her friend, but refused to be com- 
forted. 

“You don’t know, dear,” she sighed, “there’s so 
many of them, so many that want a place and so 
few places ; a poor girl has to take what there is. ” 

“Don’t cry anyhow,” said Fanny, now with tears 
in her own eyes; “we can talk all that over, and I 
tell my pa ; he knows a good many folks, maybe he 
can help us a bit. Oh, mercy ! here comes that 
monkey of a Swartz girl and a whole gang of them.” 

“Here they are, ’ ’ cried Peggie Swartz ; “I thought 
I’d find you. What makes you hide like that?” 

“Oh, nothing,” said Fanny. 

“Why, what’s the matter with you two,” asked 
Orla; “you look as solemn as a pair of wood-owls, 
sitting here in the bushes; we looked for you every- 
where ; you are not hatching moonshine poetry, are 
you? It looks like you had been crying.” 


192 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Peggie had to settle that fact. ‘ ‘ Yes, come here, 
said she, taking a close-range peep at Nellie’s eyes; 
“there’s no doubt of it; why, what’s up?” 

“Don’t ask such questions, you impudent little 
skit,” interposed Flora Hoopole; “you would not 
know what they mean if they should tell you that 
the song of the wood-thrush and the soft evening 
wind opened the fountains of their tears ! Every 
morning is a new birth, but evening is the dying 
hour of the day, when tender souls weary of frivol- 
ities. Do you know what I said in my ‘Hymn to 
the Setting Sun :’ 

“ ‘ The westward winds are wafting my farewell 
To yonder ’ ” 

“Say, I’ll give you a nickel if you let us off,” 
interrupted Orla; “you ought to be locked up every 
time the moon gets too full. ’ ’ 

“Now don’t,” protested Nellie, who had laughed 
till her eyes filled with tears of a different sort. 
“Why, Flora, you got the tenderest soul as ever 
lived. Accept our thanks, you tall poetess, you 
have understood of us. ’ ’ 

“Thanks to Heaven this is my last week!” said 
Flora. “I might as well talk to wooden dolls.” 

“We’ll miss you so we will never laugh again,” 
said Fanny. 


TAMINO A TOMBOY, 


193 


But Fanny’s own last week came before long, 
and the two friends often sat at the apple-tree win- 
dow till midnight, whispering and hatching plans 
for the future. The last night Blue Eyes hardly 
slept a wink, and Fanny could hear her sob to her 
pillow. 

‘‘Say, Nell,” whispered Fanny when she woke up 
and found her friend ready dressed, the next morn- 
ing, “I have been talking to Miss Gunther, yester- 
day, and she says governesses get vacations, they 
all do; a month every year, and sometimes two 
months; so you see there will be a chance for you 
to visit us, no matter what happens. Now this may 
be the last time you and I can have a word alone, so 
you must promise me right now to keep your word 
and spend your next free month in Allenton. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I promise what I can,” stammered Nellie; 
“only you know, I’m so poor.” 

“Oh, and won’t we have a good time!” continued 
Fanny, ignoring her friend’s misgivings. “You 
never saw such playgrounds and such easy-going 
folks; they don’t expect you to dress up for them 
every day, bless your soul, no! I used to run 
around with my stockings down and half my sleeves 
torn off, and the kids liked me all the better for it, 
and I do think my father, too. He just hates 


194 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


fashion dolls and likes his visitors to be at ease and 
make themselves at home. And onr house, it’s so 
large you can hardly count the rooms ; almost like 
a castle. We have horses, too, and I’ll drive you 
around in our dogcart every day, and in the even- 
ing we’ll see who can climb the highest, and we’ll 
steal apples, like we did the night Miss Lead came 
up in a gypsy dress.” 

They both had to laugh at that recollection, and 
when the bell rang they went down to Fanny’s last 
breakfast, arm in arm, and without any visible 
after-effects of their tearful vigils. 

‘‘Here’s a letter from your father, dear,” said 
the principal; “they have visitors at Allenton, and 
he writes he cannot possibly get away this morning, 
but he doesn’t want you to wait on account of that; 
you are to go by rail as far as Ellerbeck, and there 
you will find friends at the depot — some acquaint- 
ances of your father’s that will take care of you 
that night and take you down to Allenton to-morrow 
morning. ’ ’ 

“Ellerbeck? Wonder who that can be?” mused 
Fanny. “I did hear the name of that place before, 
but it’s a long time ago.” 

“There’s a long letter for you, too,” said Miss 
Eeymar, “that will tell you all about it. Your 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


195 


train starts here a little after eleven, and at two 
o’clock you’ll be in Ellerbeck; you change cars at 
Westdorp, where they stop for dinner.” 

“Oh, dear! I can never remember all that,” 
laughed Fanny; “let me see that letter, please, so I 
can get it all by heart and make no mistake. 
If I get lost,” she added, “I’ll walk back to 
Nellie, and then you will never get rid of me till all 
the pears and grapes are gone. ’ ’ 

“And you will always be welcome,” said the 
principal, stroking her long curls; “you have 
two homes in the world now, you mustn’t forget 
that.” 

A little before eleven Miss Gunther came in and 
announced the arrival of the omnibus. There was 
only one good hotel at Willdorf, and their depot 
omnibus often stopped at private residences for the 
accommodation of the neighbors. 

“Get your satchels, dear,” said Miss Gunther, 
but Fanny’s friends crowded in to save her that 
trouble. They had all got fond of their tomboy, 
and loaded her basket with keepsakes, sweetmeats 
and bouquets enough for a wedding feast. 

“Don’t forget us. Fan!” “Be sure now and write!” 
they cried in chorus when Fanny and the young 
teacher followed Nellie to the omnibus. Nellie had 


196 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


run ahead with the satchels, and of course insisted 
on going along to the depot. 

The train was on time. “Let’s hurry and find 
her a good seat, ” said Miss Gunther; “wonder if 
this is the ladies’ car?” 

“Plenty room, right here, come in, come in,” a 
party of students cried from the smoking car, and 
Miss Gunther at once realized her mistake. 

“The next car, dear,” said she, but the acclaims 
of the madcap crowd pursued them to the next 
platform : 

“What a fairy!” “No, that’s the goddess of 
fortune 1 ” “ Ceres with her cornucopia I — fruit and 

flowers!” 

“Be quick, dear,” whispered the young teacher. 
“It’s too bad your father couldn’t come,” said she, 
looking along the row of seats, with nothing but 
strangers in sight, but just before the train started 
an old lady with a large valise came along and in- 
quired after the car to Walburg. “She’s going 
your way,” whispered Miss Gunther, and stepped 
out on the platform to assist her Godsent up the 
steep steps. “Would you do me the great kindness 
to let this child sit near you, madam?” she asked; 
“it’s the first time she travels alone; she’s going to 
Ellerbeck.” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


197 


“Why, that’s right on my way; I’m so glad I 
found company, ’ ’ said the old lady, promptly as- 
suming the role of chaperon pro tern; “just put 
your satchels and things in here, dear; there’s 
plenty of room, by good luck, and we can sit to- 
gether and have a good chat. ’ ’ 

Miss Gunther heaved a sigh of relief. “Good- 
by, then, sweet, ’ ’ said she, kissing her Allenton pet 
left and right; “now take care of yourself and don’t 
you forget what you promised me yesterday even- 
ing. I do wish I could go along ; but here goes the 
bell; come on, Blue Eyes, we have to go” — tap- 
ping the shoulder of poor Nellie, who was sobbing 
aloud and clinging to her friend in a last embrace. 

Fanny, too, was crying, pressing her face in a 
corner of the window, and when the conductor came 
along the old lady had to whisper in her ear to 
make her produce her ticket. For ten minutes or 
more she left her in peace, after that, knowing from 
experience that transient sorrows exhaust themselves 
easiest in tears. Only when Fanny brightened up 
of her own accord, and cast wistful eyes at a troop 
of romping children near the depot of the next sta- 
tion, she thought it time to redeem her promise to 
the young teacher. 

“Will you reach home to-night, dear?” asked she 


198 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


kindly. ‘‘I suppose you live in Ellerbeck, or near 
by?” 

‘‘Yes, only eight miles,” said Fanny; “I’ll get 
there to-morrow noon, I think ; I have to stay at 
Judge Berger’s place to-night.” 

“Bergers? oh, I think I know them; yes, to be 
sure, he’s judge of the district court,” said the old 
lady ; “my husband used to be their family physician 
when they lived in Walburg; but they bought a 
pretty country place on the Stanberg road a few 
years ago. That’s only a short piece from Ellerbeck. 
Where do your folks live?” 

“Near Allenton, close to Warren’s Bridge on Pine 
Creek.” 

“I was near there five years ago,” said the old 
lady, “and I remember the splendid beech woods 
along the pike road; it’s a very pretty country in 
summer time. ’ ’ 

“Isn’t it!” said Fanny proudly, and the gates of 
small talk were opened. Fanny informed her chap- 
eron that Squire Malden owned two hundred acres 
of those beech woods, and described her native 
grange from the roof turrets to the carp pond at the 
lower end of the garden. 

“Westdorp, ” shouted the conductor. “Change 
cars for Ellerbeck, Warburg and Kohn Springs.” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


199 


At the same time the bell of the depot restaurant 
rang out an invitation to dinner. 

“Let’s go to the waiting-room, dear, ’ ’ said the old 
lady; “we two have plenty' of lunch along, and it 
would be a sin to waste a quarter on their bullhide 
beefsteaks. ’ ’ 

Fanny assented, but only nibbled a biscuit or two, 
and every now and then ran out to watch the prep- 
aration for the departure of the local train. 

“There! Somebody went in already,” said she, 
when the first dinner-guests returned; “the doors 
are open, I think. ’ ’ 

The old lady smiled. “You are anxious to get 
home,” said she; “but all right, let’s see if we can 
get a good seat again. ’ ’ 

They did have their pick of half a hundred re- 
clining chairs, but had to wait and chat nearly half 
an hour before the train finally started, with not 
more than half the seats occupied. 

At two o’clock they reached Ellerbeck. 

“This is wdiere you get off, dear,” said the old 
lady; “I wish I could take you along, but the 
Bergers would never forgive me. Their coach is 
waiting, I know, and probably the old judge came 
along himself. ’ ’ 

But there was no coach in sight. A few farmers 


200 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


with their consignments of country produce, a 
couple of haltered horses, the local postmaster with 
his mailbags, but no coach. 

“There must be some mistake,” said the old 
lady; “are you sure they were to meet the noon 
train?” 

“I don’t know,” said Fanny rather helplessly, 
“but I did all my father says in this letter, ” clutch- 
ing a piece of crumpled paper for constant reference. 
“No, there’s nobody here,” said she when the 
baggagemen handed down her big trunk; “but all 
my things are here now, so I had better get my 
satchels. ’ ’ 

“Why, certainly,” said the chaperon; “wait, let 
me get down, too ; maybe some of these people know. 
Did you see a coach around here, sir?” she 
asked the postmaster — “Judge Berger’s coach from 
Stanberg? There’s a young lady here looking for 
them.” 

‘ ‘ There was a hack here half an hour ago, ’ ’ said 
the postmaster after some reflection, “but it’s gone 
now ; they brought some ladies from Bohn Springs. ’ ’ 

“Now what am I going to do?” laughed Fanny, 
though she felt more like crying. “They forgot all 
about it, it seems.” 

“Maybe they didn’t know about the change of 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


201 


train time, ” suggestad the postmaster; “this train 
use to leave Westdorp half an hour later.” 

“There! that explains it,” said the old lady; 
“don’t fret, dear, run to the corner of the depot, 
there; you can see away up the road; probably 
you’ll see them coming.” 

“All aboard!” sang out the conductor, and 
Fanny’s chaperon had to leave her to her fate. 
“Please send that child to Berger’s in a hack if 
nobody comes,” she whispered to the postmaster; 
“the judge will pay you well.” 


202 


TAMIJSG A TOMBOY. 


CHAPTEE Xn. 

The train had rattled around the bend, and Fanny 
and the Ellerbeck postmaster were consulting in the 
waiting-room, when a family coach came down the 
road at a sharp trot, stopped for a moment near the 
opposite end of the depot, and then turned into a 
side road toward the village hotel. 

“Would you know the Bergers if you saw them?’ ’ 
inquired Fanny, who realized the necessity of self- 
help. 

“Why, yes,” said the postmaster, “they used to 
get their mail here, and I see the judge almost 
every week, but I’m sure I didn’t see him to-day. 
Now I tell you what we had better do ; just sit down 
and take it easy a few minutes till I can get my 
mail to the office, and then I let my clerk attend to it 
and get back here as quick as I can. If nobody 
comes by three o’clock, we will get you a hack.” 

“I’m so much obliged to you,” said Fanny, “but 
I’m afraid there’s something wrong; maybe they 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


203 


never got my father’s letter, and might not be home 
when we come there. ’ ’ 

“No danger of that,” laughed the postmaster; 
“just keep your seat for a minute or two.” 

But Fanny could not “take it easy.” The 
moment her new protector was gone she left the 
waiting-room to take another look at the Stanberg 
pike road. 

“Did you see a child around here?” a young 
man of twenty or twenty-two years asked the clerk 
in the ticket office; “she ought to have come in on 
the Westdorp train.” 

“Not on this train,” said the clerk; “I was out 
on the platform and didn’t see anybody get off 
except two ladies. They were talking to the post- 
master, and then went back in the cars, I think. ’ ’ 

The young man looked puzzled. “No baggage 
put off here, either?” he inquired. 

“Let me see — yes, there’s a trunk out there,” 
said the clerk, “and one of those ladies had a 
satchel and a basket; but I don’t know where they 
left them. ’ ’ 

The young man took a look at the trunk. “Why, 
that’s hers!” he muttered, looking up and down the 
road; “maybe knows” — noticing a stranger at 

the other end of the depot. 


204 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Fanny was walking slowly back toward the wait- 
ing-room, when she heard steps in the gravel path 
and turned half around. 

“Oh, madam, excuse me — allow me one minute.” 

But Fanny increased her speed. The impudence 
of those students had jarred her nerves, and Miss 
Gunther had warned her repeatedly never to notice 
strangers on the public street — young men especially. 
“Just act as if you didn’t hear them,” was Miss 
Gunther’s advice. 

“Did you see a little child fromWilldorf College 
get off here, madam?” asked her pursuer, and 
Fanny at last stopped. Could that be Judge Ber- 
ger? Impossible! But what did he know about 
Willdorf College? 

“Who are you looking for?” asked Fanny, to set- 
tle the main question. 

“They sent me here to meet a child from Will- 
dorf — Squire Malden’s little daughter,” said the 
stranger, “and I see her trunk was put off here; 
did you happen to see her on the train? I’m get- 
ting afraid she missed her station and went on to 
Walburg. ’ ’ 

“ ‘Sent me,’ he says,” thought Fanny — “perhaps 
he comes from Berger’s. I might as well tell him 
my name — ^but ” 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


205 


‘‘There wasn’t a passenger of that age on the 
train, was there?” resumed the stranger. 

“ I don’t know,” said Fanny, “but I’m Squire 
Malden’s daughter.” 

“Miss Malden? Why, isn’t this a regular 
comedy of errors?” laughed the young man, “then 
permit me to introduce myself — did your papa men- 
tion his old friends — Judge Berger’s folks, that 
were going to meet you here?” 

“Yes, he did; here’s his letter,” cried Fanny; 
“but you are not ” 

“The old judge? No, I’m only his son ” — taking 
off his hat; “all’s well that ends well. Miss Mal- 
den; and now you must allow me to explain my 
mistake : Your papa wrote the day before yester- 
day and asked us to ‘meet his little girl,’ so we 
were looking for a baby or a child of nine or ten 
years. ’ ’ 

“And you must have taken me for an overgrown 
baby only a minute ago!” laughed Fanny; “the 
idea I that I was running away from the very folks 
I tried to find! Is the judge coming?” 

“He was on the point of starting, but sprained 
his foot through being in too much of a hurry when 
we found out the train time had been changed. 
There was no time for my mother to dress, so they 


206 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


had to send me; I’m Leo Berger, the judge’s eldest 
son, Miss Malden, and I trust you will excuse my 
awkwardness — under the circumstances.” 

“Why, you acted as clever as any gentleman 
could do,” said Fanny, blushing, “and you must 
excuse me, too; I thought you didn’t look like a 
judge. You’re an artist, are you not?” 

“What makes you think so? My mountain hat? 
I’m home on a vacation, but I’m sorry to say you 
wouldn’t have missed it far if you had taken me for 
a judge; I’m a jurist, and am going to be appointed 
assessor of the district court. ’ ’ 

“What a pity!” said Fanny. 

“Why? Are you afraid of jurists?” 

“No, but artists are such clever fellows!” 

“Then that leaves me in the cold,” laughed Leo. 
“Look there, the stable boy had more sense than I 
had ; there comes our coach ; he made a good guess 
at my mistake. ’ ’ 

Fanny’s baggage was put in, together with a bas- 
ketful of cakes and pears that had como from 
Berger’s. 

‘ ‘ That basket makes me feel like bursting out 
laughing,” said Leo when he seized the reins; “do 
you know what my mother said when she handed 
me that? ‘Here’s something for that little child,’ 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


207 


she said, ‘but take care she doesn’t overeat herself 
and get sick ! ’ ” 

“She’s a prophet,” laughed Fanny; “they kept 
us so strict in Willdorf that I could ruin a pear 
orchard in a week if they would give me leave. ’ ’ 

“Did they now? I thought it was a very liberal 
college,” said Leo; “you’ve got one clever teacher 
there, anyhow, if Miss Gunther is there yet. They 
nearly all worship her, they say. ’ ’ 

“I do, for one,” said Fanny; “you have no idea 
how kind and clever she is; there couldn’t be a 
better teacher. ’ ’ 

“And she wasn’t brought up for it, either,” said 
Leo; “her people were very well off, but lost all 
they had in the failure of that Herburg bank. Her 
grandmother had a house with a garden fine enough 
for a city park. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Why ! I never knew that, ’ ’ said Fanny ; “I made 
sure her folks had been poor and taught her to take 
care of youngsters, because she had such patience 
with some of us. ’ ’ 

“ Well, did you enjoy your railway ride? ” asked 
Leo. 

“Yes, indeed.” 

Fanny began to give short answers ; her mind had 
wandered back to Miss Gunther and her strange fate. 


208 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


Still she stole an occasional look at the black eyes 
and sunburned face of her companion, and could not 
help suspecting that his appearance at Willdorf 
College might endanger the monopoly of Professor 
Althoff. When the coach drew up at the veranda 
of the Berger country seat a venerable-looking lady 
came down to receive the guest. 

“The little girl didn’t come, mamma,” said Leo, 
“so I have brought Miss Fanny Malden.” 

“Yes, he couldn’t help it,” laughed Fanny, “nor 
I either. My father did have a baby-girl one time, 
but that’s seventeen years ago and I could not help 
growing a bit in the meanwhile. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Berger welcomed her guest with an embrace 
and a kiss, and presently the old judge, too, came 
hobbling out and joined in the laugh at the recital 
of Leo’s mistake. 

“Why! I’d have known her at once,” said he; 
“she’s just the picture of her father — same eyes, 
same mouth, same way of watching your face when 
you talk. ’ ’ 

“Yes, but he’s an old soldier and they never 
run,” laughed Fanny ; “and I did run away from 
Leo, and all that stopped me was my tight shoes. 
In my old Allenton brogans he’d have never caught 
me at all, ’ ’ 



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TAMING A TOMBOY. 


209 


“Why! you caught a beauty, Leo,” said the old 
judge, when Mrs. Berger had conducted her visitor 
to the guest-room ; “don’t you think she would make 
a stir at our country ball?” 

“She’s too much of a tomboy to care for such 
things,” said Leo; “oh, pa — has the evening paper 
come yet?” 

Judge Berger watched his son sideways, with his 
eyes twinkling under his bushy white brows. 

“Evening paper? yes, there it is,” said he; “I 
thought you had something else to interest you; or 
was I mistaken?” 

But Leo Berger had already dived into the even- 
ing news. 

“And now let me apologize for your own folks, 
pet,” said the old judge, when the familj^ ad- 
journed to the chimney corner after supper; “it 
may have surprised you that your father did not 
come; but he couldn’t help himself; they have the 
strangest kind of a visitor. He’s your uncle — your 
mamma’s brother, so I ought to be careful how I 
talk about him, but a more eccentric traveler does 
not roam the surface of this planet just now. He 
comes and goes like a will-o’-the-wisp; here to- 
day, and a hundred miles off to-morrow ; has been in 
Africa and the Holy Land, but never yet found an 


210 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


inducement to settle down and give his boots a few 
weeks’ rest. Ten or twelve days is about the long- 
est he has ever been known to stop in one place, and 
your folks did not know what moment the spirit 
might move him again and create a demand for rail- 
way facilities at a moment’s notice.” 

“Why — how does he make a living?” asked the 
niece of this newly discovered uncle. 

“Oh, he’s an artist,” said the judge, “and 
several of his landscapes were bought at prize pic- 
ture rates, and the way he lives he doesn’t spend 
much, in spite of his everlasting travels. When 
he does stop in any place for a few days he takes 
long, solitary strolls in the mountains and lives on 
bread and milk, or whatever he can find ready in a 
woodchopper’s cabin.” 

“What’s the matter with him? He must be 
crazy, ” laughed Fanny ; “I didn’t think artists 
would act like that. ’ ’ 

“I know you didn’t,” said Leo Berger; “say, 
papa, d’ye know that she wouldn’t believe I could 
be a jurist ; she told me I was too clever for that, 
and that I must be an artist. ’ ’ 

“Oh, don’t, now,” protested Fanny, blushing; 
“but, please, what do you think is the matter with 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


211 


him, — that artist, I mean; he must be a sort of 
wandering Jew?” 

‘‘There’s something on his mind, they say; may- 
be some disappointment,” said the judge; “or some 
distressing recollection that won’t let him rest. 
Perhaps your mother could tell you; all I know is 
that he hasn’t been always that way. He lived 
nearly two years in Herburg one time. ’ ’ 

“What a lovely place you have here,” cried 
Fanny, when the old judge beckoned her to a win- 
dow soon after, and showed her the moonlight 
glittering on a broad river or lake; “I could stay 
here all summer, fishing. ’ ’ 

“Suppose you do?” said the judge; “do stay a 
few weeks, anyhow; we’re living so alone here, you 
would be a godsend ; yes, and we would let you fish 
— sun-perch by the thousands, and eels and carp. 
Leo would take you out boat-riding, and you could 
climb around on the rocks and pick berries and 
ferns ’ ’ 

“Oh, please, don’t torment me,” laughed Miss 
Tomboy. “I would be in paradise, I know; but I 
have to go home. I’m just dying to see that little 
rascal of a chubby-faced boy they got — wait” — 
rummaging her pocket ; ‘ ‘ yes, here it is. Just look at 
this photograph, and I leave it to you if I can help 


212 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


wanting to hug the life out of him, and I do want to 
see my pa, too. ’ ’ 

‘‘You’re right, sweet,” said Mrs. Berger, patting 
her guest’s curly head; “happiness, like charity, be- 
gins at home ; but after that little fellow has pulled 
out as many of your curls as you can spare you 
must come and see us. ’ ’ 

“The squire invites us to come over on harvest 
home day, ” said the judge. “What do you say; 
will you let us come and allow us to take you along 
when we go back?” 

“Yes, indeed,” cried Fanny; “but be sure now 
and keep your word. If you come and help us eat 
grapes. I’ll go back with you and help you catch 
fish.” 

“Good,” laughed the judge; “let’s shake hands 
on that. That’s right, but now don’t forget your 
promise.” 

“Oh, no, indeed,” said Fanny; “in Willdorf 
College shaking hands on something was as good as 
an oath. You will come, too, ’ ’ said she, turning to 
Leo, “won’t you, now?” 

“Yes, of course,” said Leo, “I’m included in 
that bargain; or hadn’t we two better shake hands 
on it, too?” 

“No, I don’t doubt your word,” laughed Fanny. 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


213 


‘‘How could I — since you told me you are a 
lawyer ! ” 

“There, she got you!” laughed the old judge, 
slapping his boy’s shoulder, and for just one 
moment Fanny felt sorry that harvest home was so 
near the end of the year. She had always doubted 
if in the wide world there could be any place like 
home, but she vaguely began to suspect the possi- 
bility of that fact. 

Early the next morning Leo Berger took his 
father’s guest to a branch railway with a station 
near Allendorf, and about eight o’clock the one daily 
passenger train came trundling along, and stopped 
long enough to accommodate a mass-meeting party, 
though Fanny Malden was the only passenger at 
that depot. 

“And now you must give me your hand,” said 
Leo, when the engine at last gave a snort; “between 
that chubby brother and funny uncle of yours they 
will probably make you forget us, but Avhen harvest 
home comes you can rely on it I won’t forget to 
have my boat ready.” 

The train started, and Fanny for a moment ex- 
perienced a repetition of the same emotion that had 
modified the joy of her homeward departure from 
Willdorf. What kind folks were those Bergers, 


214 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


and how clever that boy of theirs had acted,, from 
beginning to end ! She had allowed him to kiss her 
hand, and couldn’t bring herself to regret it, though 
she wondered if Miss Gunther would not have given 
her a scolding. 

‘‘Miss Eeymar would, I think,” she muttered to 
herself, “and I know Mrs. Lead would, but I do not 
care, ’ ’ and Fanny had a blush all to herself. Her 
only fellow-passengers were an old army officer and 
a couple of farmers, and before long Fanny began 
to recognize the hill tops of Beech Kidge ; yes that 
was Hunters’ Best and the Fox Gap, and over yon- 
der she caught a glimpse of Pine Creek bridge with 
the big shade trees near her favorite fishing place. 

“Allenton Junction!” called out the conductor, 
and there was the old depot, and her father standing 
in the front rank of the crowd that awaited the 
arrival of the train. 

Her mother, too, had come, and now stepped to 
the very edge of the platform, and without a mo- 
ment’s hesitation Miss Tomboy fiung herself into her 
arms. “Mamma, dear mamma!” she sobbed, and 
a long embrace sealed the pledge of forgiveness and 
love. 

Then came her father’s turn. “Why, Fanny, 
pet, ’ ’ said he, when she had hugged him till she 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


215 


panted for breath, ‘‘is this my own Tomboy, grown 
into a fashionable young lady?” — holding her off at 
arm’s length. “I can’t quite believe it, till I find 
out if you can still climb a tree!” 

“You’ll soon know it, if the pears on the pond 
tree are ripe, ’ ’ laughed Fanny, dancing all around 
him in the exuberance of her joy. “How’s Joe and 
the kid?” 

“I take it all back; yes, you’re my own Fan-boy 
still, ” laughed the squire; ‘but first let me introduce 
you to another newcomer. This is your Uncle Her- 
bert, Fan, a great traveler and artist; he can show 
you tricks, painting mountains, and climbing them, 
too.” 

“So that’s a real artist, is he?” thought Fanny 
Malden, as she took the hand of a broad-shouldered 
and rather thickset man, as dark as a Spaniard, and 
with a beard like a mane. His brown felt hat was 
crushed out of all shape, and his velveteen shooting- 
jacket looked as if it had served the purpose of a 
camp-blanket. “If he is an artist, I like jurists 
best, ’ ’ thought Fanny Malden. 

Oh, and here was Joe, too, and he had brought 
her pup along. Fanny knew Spot right away by 
the white marks on his shoulders, but he had grown 
into a big dog now, bigger than Brownie. 


216 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


But he had to come into the coach, all the same ; 
“I’m not going to lose him again, I can tell you 
that, ’ ’ said Miss Tomboy, and she did not consent to 
his expulsion till they had turned into the yard-lane 
and there was no possible risk of his losing his way 
now. A minute after Fanny herself jumped off and 
made a rush for the house. 

“How do you like her, Herbert?” asked Squire 
Malden. 

“Her? Him, you mean,” said the artist; “why, 
that’s a boy — good for excursions and hunting trips 
— if I stay till October. ’ ’ 

“Never mind that fellow,” said Mrs. Malden, 
when the squire looked disappointed; “he didn’t 
seen her two years ago, or he wouldn’t talk like 
that. She has just improved in every way, I 
think.” 

“Hasn’t she now?” said the squire proudly — 
“there! look at that, she found him, in spite of all 
precautions. ’ ’ 

They had reached the veranda, and in the open 
door stood Fanny, hugging and kissing her little 
brother. 

“No, you don’t,” laughed Fanny when she saw 
her mother come up the steps with open arms ; “I’m 
not half done with this little rogue yet. I’ll make 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 




him give me a kiss before I let him go, ’ ’ dancing 
out of the way, and still cuddling Master Chubb. 

“Why, what’s the matter now?” she asked when 
the cherub burst out squalling; “did he think I was 
going to eat him up? I’ll do that some day, I 
know, if he gets the least bit prettier; here” — ^with 
a parting kiss — ^“you can have him awhile to let me 
see what you do to keep him quiet.” 

“Now come up to your room. Fan,” said the 
squire; “let me see if you can find the way alone?” 

Fanny showed him by darting upstairs and whisk- 
ing into a side hall. “Oh, pa! who did all this?” 
said she, when her father overtook her at last. 
“Look at all these pretty books and that big artist 
table 1 so many colors and different kinds of paper 1 
Is this where Uncle Herbert paints his pictures?” 

“No, indeed, or you couldn’t cross the floor for 
scattered newspapers and knickknacks, ’ ’ laughed the 
squire; “wait till you see his den; no, this is all 
your own, but he will help you once in awhile and 
teach you painting trees and mountains.” 

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” said Fanny, catching 
fire at the idea; “then I can make a picture of Beech 
Eidge and send it to poor Nellie Holden. ’ ’ 

“How is that dear girl getting on?” asked Squire 
Malden. 


218 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


‘‘I wanted her to come along ever so much,” 
said Fanny, ‘‘but she had to stay aud study; 
they want her to be a governess or a teacher, 
like Miss Gunther. She’s so poor, pa; oh, dear 
me! So many poor people!” 

But Fanny was too happy to give in to such rev- 
eries, and after dinner she gave her mamma the 
slip, and ran out in the yard to have a good romp 
with the friends of her tomboyhood. 

How the pups had grown, and the lambs and 
calves ! Joe took her on a round of inspection — 
showed her the improved dovecot, the new pump, 
the new partition for ewes and lambs in the sheep 
stable, but Fanny drew the line at last when he 
wanted to show her the new pigpen. 

“I have to hurry back, Joe,” said she; “they’re 
hunting me now, I know; I just whisked out when 
they gave me the first chance. ’ ’ 

“It’s a pity. Miss Fan,” said Joe; “you saw the 
new gate yourself, I reckon, but that new pig-stable ! 
It’s so nice it had made you feel like living there 
yourself, if you see it. ’ ’ 

“All right,” laughed Fanny, “we must see it, 
then — to-morrow — there ! what did I tell you ? — here 
they come hunting me. 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


219 


CHAPTEE XIII. 

A MONTH had passed, and Fanny had visited all 
her favorite playgrounds from Hunter’s Kest to the 
Fountain Meadows, and was getting as sunburned as 
^ gypsy — to complete her father’s happiness. 
“She has lost her red cheeks, that’s one reason why 
I shall never send her back, ’ ’ Squire Malden had 
told his wife the first evening. 

“Are you not afraid they will lose their way?” 
said Fanny’s mother, when Uncle Herbert had taken 
her Tomboy out on another sketching tour; “I’m 
afraid they will climb to the very top of the ridge 
before they stop. ’ ’ 

“Oh, you can’t lose them,” laughed the squire, 
“but I do hope they will not stay quite as long as 
last Saturday. There is no saying what an eccentric 
genius might not do, or a tomboy ; they will climb 
up to Seaver’s Peak some day.” 

“And Fanny is getting too old for such pranks,” 
said Mrs. Malden. “She is in her eighteenth year 
now. ’ ’ 


220 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


“Yes — ^but a child in every other sense,” said 
the squire. 

“I don’t know; she might undeceive you some 
day.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Can’t you guess?” 

“Oh, you know I’m not good at riddles,” laughed 
the squire, “what do you mean? Would she go 
back to Willdorf of her own accord?” 

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Malden, “but I do 
know that she wants to go back to the Bergers. ’ And 
she said enough to make me sure that it isn’t that 
fish pond alone. It’s that boy Leo.” 

The squire was struck dumb with amazement. 

“She’s asking strange questions about him and is 
trying to draw his profile. I can’t help thinking 
she has met her fate. ’ ’ 

“What! Oh, come!” shouted the squire, “a 
joke is a joke; you cannot possibly be in earnest?’’ 

Mrs. Malden made no reply, but smiled myste- 
riously. 

“She didn’t tell you— did she?” 

“No, indeed, but it made me laugh how it will 
open your eyes when the Bergers come here and 
bring the owner of that rowboat along. ’ ’ 

“I wish they would come,” said the squire, “ I 


TAMING A TOMBOY.) 


221 


want to use my own eyes and settle that question. 
Women can see further in such cases, I know, but 
I can’t help thinking you must be mistaken.” 

‘‘Here’s a letter from Willdorf College,” said 
the squire one evening, when Joe came in with the 
mail. That’s for you. Fan. ” 

“Miss Gunther, I expect,” said Fanny; “isn’t 
she kind! She did keep her word then!” 

“Is that how she writes my name?” asked her 
father, inspecting the envelope ; ‘ ‘ look here : ‘ Cair 
of Squire Malden.’ ” 

“Let me see — why! That’s Nellie’s handwrit- 
ing!” cried Fanny; “poordear! she can’t spell, but 
she’s the best girl in this whole world.” 

“Any good news?” asked the squire, when Fanny 
suddenly jumped up and waved the letter over her 
head. 

“Good news? I should say so! though I should 
never have guessed it if you had given me a hundred 
tries. Just listen : 

“ ‘DeaeFan: When you come to see us nextyeer 
or next you will find Blue Eyes in the same old 
place, I’m not going to leave at all, now. Ain’t 
you gliid? 

“ ‘But you think I got crazy ? Just wait till I tell 
you what happen. 


222 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


“ ‘Last Saturday Miss Eymer she come up to my 
room and scare me ; you knows she never come un- 
less we done something awful. I did get scared, 
but she take my hand and then I knew she wasn’t 
mad, but it scare me all the same. Here’s a letter 
said she, from a ledy that wants a good governess — 
one that treats the chillern right and I’m going to 
recommend you. Would I like to go she ask, and 
I didn’t know what to say. But how could I say 
no? I’m too poor to have my own way, so I said 
yes, and cried all night. I had only three days’ 
time and the second day I began packing, and that 
made me cry more than ever. I was cry in’ so I did 
not hear the door open, and all at wonst Professor 
Althoff was come in and ask me what made me cry. 
I just hid my face and couldn’t tell. But he knew 
it and sais so, and that made it all worse. I sat on 
my trunk sobbing worse than before. Can you 
answer me one question, he ask? Look me in the' 
face. I looked just wonce, and all a sudden he had 
me in his arms and ask me if I want to stay in 
Willdorf and be his little wife. 

“ ‘I hid my face, but I said yes, and as soon as I 
do that he had me in his arm again. 

“ ‘I had not been happy one day. Fan, since you 
left, but that made up for it. I felt as if I was the 
happiest girl in this whole world. I tell you some 
day how happy I was; I can’t write it at all. 

“ ‘Then we went and told the principal and she 
kiss me and took me in her arm, and that same day 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


223 


all the girls knew it. It just set them crazy, but 
Orla got over it and gave me her best brooch the 
next morning. 

“ ‘Professor Althoff gave me a ring, and he’s gone 
now to his mother, but he will be back in a week, 
and then we make up our mind about the wedding 
day. If nothing happen it will be New Year, said 
Professor Althoff. 

“ ‘And now I can’t write you some more, but you 
must promise and come to my wedding ; I tell you 
what day, and remain your best friend 

“‘Blue Eyes.’” 

“Poor dear girl, she deserves her happiness,” 
said Mrs. Malden, who had peeped over Fanny’s 
shoulder while she was spelling out her droll letter, 
and by way of answer Fanny kissed her hand. 
“Thank you, in my best friend’s name,” that 
meant, in language more eloquent than any words, 
for Squire Malden at once went to his room, and 
in less than a minute came back with a sealed 
envelope^ 

“There, Fan,” said he, “don’t lose that, and if 
you write to your pet you inclose that without any 
comment. She has been a good friend to you, and 
if she can’t come to see us we have to thank her in 
some way or other. 

To his surprise Fanny burst out crying, and then 


224 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


caught him around the neck to hide her face on his 
shoulder. 

‘‘How clever you are, pa; I always wanted to ask 
you, but I was afraid. But whatever that is I’ll 
send her a wedding present of my own. ’ ’ 

“You’re a good girl,” said the squire, patting 
her head, “and to reward you I’ll tell you another 
piece of good news that your ma and I found out 
to-day : the Bergers are going to be here to-morrow 
and stay till Saturday night. ” - 

“Is that a fact? Oh, ma! Are they ll com- 
ing?” asked Fanny, while her father watched her 
face very closely. ‘ ‘ Oh, please ! Can I run up and 
look at that blue dress of mine that came in the 
wash this morning?” 

And away she darted, humming her favorite tune. 

Squire Malden shook his head. “You may be 
right, Annie,” said he, with a sigh, “but let’s hope 
we are both mistaken. ’ ’ 

There was a thunder shower the next morning, 
and it was still raining when Joe hitched up his 
horses for the trip to the depot, so Fanny had to 
stay behind and keep her mother company, while 
the squire, with an armful of reserve umbrellas and 
rubber coats, went along to meet the expected 
visitors. - 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


235 


‘‘The train is late again,” said Mrs. Malden, 
when Fanny had watched at the window nearly half 
an hour; “but never mind; you can look at a pic- 
ture book or try some of that new sheet music to 
while time away. ’ ’ 

Fanny strolled along the open hall to take an- 
other look at the depot road, but there was nothing 
in sight, and seeing her Uncle Herbert in the library, 
she ran up to her own room to get a photograph 
album that she had often promised to show him. 

“Look here, uncle,” said she, when she came 
dancing up to his table, “you asked me about that 
girl Nellie last evening; here’s her picture. Don’t 
you think that’s the sweetest face you ever 
saw?” 

“A pretty mouth, yes,” said the connoisseur, 
“but too broad-faced for a beauty ; she’s Eussian or 
Swedish, you told me?” 

“Yes, Danish, with a Swedish mother.” 

“I thought so. And here’s another foreigner: 
just look at that nose!” 

“Why! How can you tell? Yes, that’s a Eus- 
sian : Orla Sassuwitch ; that name always made me 
laugh. ’ ’ 

“And this is your principal, I suppose?” 

“You guessed it again; but this makes her older- 


220 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


looking than she really is. Here are some of the 
other teachers. ’ ’ 

“Halloo! who’s this? What’s the name of this 
girl?” 

Fanny had turned her head, with half a mind to 
bolt for the hall, and her uncle had to repeat his 
question. 

“Do you know her? Say, Fanny, who is this 
girl?’’ 

“That? Oh, that’s one of the teachers ; that’s 
Miss Gunther, the one that was so good to me and 
took me along to the depot. Maybe you have seen 
her before?’’ 

“I’m not sure, she reminds me wonderfully of 
somebody — but that was a long time ago, ’ ’ said the 
artist, still staring at the portrait of the young 
teacher. “Do you know her age?” 

“She told me, but I forgot — twenty -five anyhow, 
I should say, or twenty-six. Do you think she’s 
pretty?” 

Uncle Herbert made no reply. “Twenty-five?” 
said he in a low voice, as to himself ; then nodded 
and looked at the photograph once more. “What 
is her name, you say?” 

“Gunther, Miss Charlotte Gunther.” 

“Charlotte? Have you a good memory, Fanny? 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


227 


Do you know if you ever heard her speak of a Char- 
lotte Ellard?” 

Fanny shook her head. ‘‘She may have changed 
her name,” said she after some reflection; “they 
W'ere very well off, her folks, one time, and then 
lost all they had, and she had to make a living the 
best way she could. Who did you think she 
reminded you of?” 

No reply. Uncle Herbert was walking slowly 
up and down the library, with his mind in the 
land of bygone days, and at any other time Fanny 
would think his conduct rather strange, but just 
then there was a sound of wheels on the gravel road 
and Miss Tomboy fairly flew to the hall window. 

“Here they come now,” she cried, and down- 
stairs, three steps at each jump. 

The old judge clambered out first, and embraced 
Fanny as cordially as if he had met a pet child of 
his own. Leo kissed Mrs. Malden’s hand and then 
Fanny’s, who had held out both of hers at once 
and got a handshake for good measure. 

“ What weather!,” cried Mrs. Malden; “come in, 
come in, or you will get all wet ’ ’ — conducting the 
guests to th eir rooms, while Fanny still lingered on 
the veranda. 

Leo Berger hesitated a moment, then turned back 


228 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


and shook the water off his rubber coat. ‘‘This 
rain made you grow, Miss Malden, ’ ’ he laughed. 
“They can’t advertise you fora little girl any more, 
if you get lost on the railroad.” 

“What a pity you should have had such bad 
luck, ” said Fanny ; “just look at that shower again! 
If it would just stop for a minute I would take you 
out and show you our nice playgrounds. It seems 
whenever I am hoping for a little fun there is always 
something bound to come along and spoil it” — 
pouting and drying her eyes with her hand. 

“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Leo; “you are 
not crying, are you?” 

“No, no, it’s just the rain,” said Fanny; “these 
vine leaves fill with water and then tip over and 
drench y ou. ” 

“You do look as if you had been crying.” 

“Do I? Oh, yes, I know what you mean. I did 
come near crying, but it was because we all laughed 
till it almost made us cry ; we got such a funny let- 
ter, Mr. Berger. Do you remember that Danish 
girl I told you about?” 

“The one who talks so strange and asked her 
partner if he would go to blazes?” 

“Yes, the same. What a memory you have, Mr. 
Berger! Fancy you remembering a little thing like 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


229 


tliat! Well, she went and got married, or be- 
trothed, and it jnst would choke you the way she 
writes about it.” 

“Have you got that letter yet?” 

“ Yes ” — diving in her pocket — ‘ ‘ yes, here it is. I 
have to look at it and have a good laugh every few 
minutes.” 

“Oh, do let me see it?” 

“Hold on! No, you mustn’t,*’ laughed Fanny; 
“she’s my best friend and I mustn’t give all her 
little secrets away Mke that! It’s bad enough that 
we are poking fun at her. Wait — I’ll read you one 
passage, anyhow.” 

“Oh, don’t be cruel,” said Leo. “I’m dying to 
hear it all” — advancing as if to capture the docu- 
ment by stratagem. 

“You won’t hear it or see it, then,” said Fanny, 
pocketing the letter and darting into the house. 

“Never mind. I’ll catch you yet!” laughed Leo. 
“You promised to read it to me.” 

“Well, I will, after I read it over and see what’s 
fit for publication, ’ ’ said Fanny, with one hand on 
the banisters. “You must excuse me, now; they 
want me upstairs. ’ ’ 

Ten minutes after Leo caught Fanny in the par- 
lor, sorting an armful of sheet music, while her 


230 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


parents were entertaining the visitors with a resume 
of neighborhood newSc 

“Well,” asked Leo, “where is that letter?” 

“Wait till we are alone,” whispered Fanny; 
“they want me to play, but I hope I can’t find the 
piece they were talking about. ’ ’ 

“Oh, Fanny,” said Mrs. Malden, “run and see 
if you can’t find your uncle; tell him, please.” 

“All right,” said Fanny, glad to drop the mu- 
sical programme; “he’s upstairs in the library, I 
think. ’ ’ 

“You must excuse his strange ways, ” said the 
squire when Fanny was gone; “he will pick up a 
book and get so interested in it that he forgets eat- 
ing and drinking. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I know,” laughed the old judge, “he has a 
way of his own for doing everything. Does he still 
take^fits of mountain-fever and camp in the wilder- 
ness to hear the owls hoot?” 

“That’s what he will do next, ’’said Mrs. Mal- 
den ; and the habits of the eccentric artist remained 
the topic of conversation for at least ten minutes; 
but Fanny did not return. 

Judge Berger then treated his friends to an ac- 
count of a similar oddity in a suburb of Herburg — • 
an old bachelor who occupied a dilapidated store- 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


231 


house at the upper eud of town, and never asked the 
assistance of a human being, where his own inge- 
nuity could possibly supply his wants. 

While they were still chatting Leo slipped out 
unperceived. “I thought I’d catch you, ’ ’ he laughed, 
when he found Miss Tomboy on the third-story 
balcony, rocking in her uncle’s armchair and 
watching the rain; ‘‘are you hiding here to let that 
piano scheme die a natural death?” 

‘ ‘ Why, you scared me, ’ ’ said Fanny ; ‘ ‘ you slipped 
out here on tiptoes, didn’t you? No, I’m watch- 
ing for Uncle Herbert. He must be out in the gar- 
den, hunting herbs. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What ! In that rain ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, you don’t know him if you suppose he 
would mind that,” laughed Fanny. “He says it’s 
healthy to get yourself used to all sorts of wind and 
weather. He would just as soon be wet as dry, like 
a Newfoundlander. I looked for him in the library 
and his own room and everywhere, but he’s gone; 
so I suppose he’s enjoying the rain and I’m watch- 
ing to call him if he comes in sight. 

“That’s a good plan,” said Leo; “you can see 
the whole country from up here. Well, while we 
wait, suppose you read me that letter?” 

“Suppose I don’t?” 


232 


TAMING A TOMBOY, 


‘‘No, I got you this time; you know what you 
promised me; well, we are alone now, so there’s no 
excuse at all. Let’s see it, if you are too busy to 
read. ’ ’ 

“I told you once, so don’t bother,” said Miss 
Tomboy. The truth is she was getting nettled at 
the way he had caught her in a trap and pushed his 
advantage. 

“Bead me a few passages, anyhow, do,” coaxed 
Leo, after watching her in silence for some time. 

“Well, getachair then,” said Fanny. “I don’t 
want you to stand there and peep over my shoulder. ’ ’ 

Leo did find a chair, and it ended in their read- 
ing Nellie’s letter together, amid peals of laughter. 

“Now then,” said Fanny, when they were done, 
“Master Mischief, what have you made me do? 
Nellie will never forgive me if she comes here and 
you should tell. ’ ’ 

“But I don’t,” said Leo, “I never tell; and I 
will be quite good now and do all you ask me, if 
you will just answer me one^uestion. ” 

Fanny gasped. Had he trapped her for that 
purpose ? 

“Hadn’t we better go down, now?” she stam- 
mered. 

“Directly, ’ ’ said he, “but’ ’ — taking her hand — 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


233 


‘‘first tell me what you would say if anybody asked 
you the question Herr Althoff asked Nellie?” 

“Nothing,” said Fanny; “yes, perhaps it would 
be best to tell him plainly he was mistaken. I 
don’t like anybody.” 

“Would you not say ‘yes’ if I should ask you, 
Fanny, dear?” Fanny hid her face in her hands. 
“Wouldn’t you, Fanny?” 

“No, never!” burst out Miss Tomboy, turning 
her head and staring out in the rain with an omi- 
nous frown. 

“Never? Oh, Fanny, is that your last word? 
Tell me, dear ; the happiness of my life is at stake 1 ’ ’ 

He waited a full minute, then sank back in his 
chair and pressed his face against his arm. 

Fanny had not moved, but her heart beat as she 
had never felt it beat before. She was on the point 
of rising and leaving the balcony, yielding to the 
promptings of her stubborn mood, when Lucy’s pale 
face rose before her inner eye, and a warning voice 
seemed to whisper: “Your happiness, too, is at 
stake; do you want to lose him? Eemember my 
fate!” 

“Leo,” said Fanny softly, rising and approach- 
ing her lover a step or two, then stopped, dismayed 
at her own boldness. 


234 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


She had only whispered that one word, but Leo 
had heard it, and at once caught her in his arms. 
“I knew I wasn’t mistaken; I knew it! Fanny, 
darling! You are mine now forever!” 

‘‘But no kissing, mind!” said Fanny, trying to 
disengage herself when his lips touched her flaming 
cheek. 

“Well, your hand, then,” laughed Leo — “to be- 
gin with.” He was still holding her in his arms, 
when the glass door opened and the squire with his 
wife and guests stepped out on the balcony. A 
single glance sufficed to explain the situation, and 
Judge Berger clasped Fanny to his heart. 

Squire Malden had stopped, almost petrifled with 
amazement. “Wasn’t I right, Henry?” said his 
wife; “now use your own eyes! Wasn’t I right 
that your little girl has grown considerably — heart 
and all?” 

“Oh, Fanny, Fanny,” he groaned, “can that be 
true? Is it possible my own pet tomboy is going 
to leave me?” 

That brought Fanny round his neck with tears 
and never-ending kisses. “Dear, best papa,” she 
sobbed, “you know I love you, but — how could I 
help it?” 

But where was Uncle Herbert all this time? 


TAMING A TOMBOY. 


^35 


They looked for him on the turret and in the con- 
servatory, and then in his own room again. 

“Come here, all of you,” cried the squire after a 
closer inspection of the artist’s den. “His trunk is 
gone and his overcoat and his top boots, too ! Was 
there ever a crazier fellow outside of Bedlam ! He 
had to choose this of all times to skip! He’s gone 
for good, that’s clear!” 

Inquiries then elicited the fact that half an hour 
after the arrival of the visitors, and while the rain 
was at its worst. Uncle Herbert had given Joe two 
dollars to hitch up again and drive him to the depot, 
in time for the accommodation train. 

Three weeks passed before the explanation came 
at last in the form of a letter that set the whole 
house agog with amazement, and almost drove Fanny 
out of her wits. It was a double letter from Geneva, 
Switzerland, and inclosed a card with a vignette of 
two clasped hands and the names of Herbert Lander 
and Charlotte Gunther Ellard. 

“We are on our bridal tour,” wrote the artist; 
“Charlotte and I are going to spend the winter in 
Italy. That may surprise you, but there’s really 
nothing surprising about it. We were betrothed a 
good many years ago, but — never mind what; we 
forgot to mention it, that’s all.” 


236 


TAMim A TOMBOY. 


‘‘Now I’m your aunt, dear,” wrote Mrs. Lander, 
n^e Gunther. “Who would have thought it? The 
next time I write I’ll tell you how it all happened. 
Do you still remember that story about poor Lucy ? 
Her real name was Charlotte. And the artist? Per- 
haps you can guess his name. Write to me at 
Kome.” 

And to Eome went a whole package of letters, 
with a short note of Mrs. Malden’s: 

“Your Fanny, too, is betrothed; climbs moun- 
tains, for all that ; and is still something of a boy, 
but a tomboy no longer. The work of redemption 
you began a year ago was completed in Allenton, 
and the last trace of her wild waywardness has 
finally been cured by love. ’ ’ 


THE END. 


HENTY SERIES 


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BY G. A. HENTY. 


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ADVENTURES IN CUBA; 

OR,’ 

How an American Boy Saved His Friend 
and Escaped from a Spanish Prison. 


By F. L. OSWALD. 


•12mo. Cloth. Illuminated Cover. Illustrated $1.00. 


Tom Lander, the hero of the tale, is a young American who has made Cuba 
his second home, and who, in the absence of his father, receives a message that 
a family of former neighbors has been obliged to seek safety in flight, and that 
their favorite son, Tom’s best friend, has been captured by the Spaniards and 
dragged to the military prison of Fort Bayamo. 

Young Lander, though almost stunned with horror, at once consults with 
members of the Cuban Junta and starts for Bayamo the next day. A letter of 
his father’s clerk introduces him to Don Elias Mac4n, a longheaded old Creole of 
Yankee descent, who espouses the cause of his young countryman and joins him 
in a close survey of the problem. 

Then begins a thrilling struggle of energy and brains against apparently hope- 
less difficulties. The young captive, on the verge of a desperate venture, receives 
a timely warning and is enabled to effect his escape a few days before the arrival 
of a military inquisitor who would have murdered him to extort the secrets of 
the Junta. 

His deliverers meet him at the preconcerted rendezvous, and in the company 
of the young American and a Cuban orphan boy he continues his flight to the 
south coast, where he is smuggled aboard a Florida schooner, and finally restored 
to his friends. 

The story abounds with striking descriptions of Cuban scenery, the wonders of 
the tropical virgin woods, climatic portents, the strange customs and superstitions 
of the rural population, the co-operative enthusiasm of the patriots and the power 
of their secret league, the mysteries of city life, refugee camps and Spanish 
prisons. 

The author. Dr. Felix L. Oswald, is thoroughly familiar with the marvels of 
nature and the almost equally peculiar social life of the Spanish West Indies, 
where he passed the six years from 1869-75, and the holiday vacations of several 
recent winters. 

“Dr, Oswald,” says the founder of the Popular Science Monthly^ “is the 
author of one of the most interesting and valuable books that have emanated 
from the American press in many a day. He has journeyed extensively in 
Europe, South America and the United States, and alwaj’s as an open-eyed 
observer of nature and men.” 

In addition to numerous scientific works. Dr, Oswald has published the follow- 
ing contributions to the entertaining literature of the English language : 

“Summerland Sketches; or. Rambles in the Backwoods of Mexico and Central 
America ; ” “ Days and Nights in the Tropics ; ” “ Zoological Sketches ; ” “In 
Nature’s Wonderland.” 

W. L. ALLISON CO., NEW YORK. 




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